Meet the Turncoat
by Raha
Summary: A new Class is introduced to the Team. One with an inconvenient power, guns that don't shoot bullets, and a single-minded determination to end the War between RED and BLU once and for all. The only problem: they're a total pacifist. And it's going to get them killed. Over and over and over. How much is mercy really worth, in the end? (Put disclaimer here!)
1. REPORT 001

**!WARNING! A TIME ANOMALY HAS BEEN DETECTED IN REPORT 007 AND REPORT 008. SOME MEMORY FILES MAY HAVE BEEN CORRUPTED. PLEASE REFER TO SAID FILES AND MAKE NOTE OF ANY CHANGES THAT MAY HAVE RESULTED IN YOUR TIME-SPACE CONTINUUM. THANK YOU.**

* * *

 **MEET THE TURNCOAT**

 **RETRIEVING FILE…**

 **DATA LOAD 001: FOUND**

* * *

 **-INITIATE TRANSMISSION-**

Silence.

It was a rare commodity in the gravel pits of Teufort. One was always surrounded by noisy comrades, shouting to one another over the shriek of exploding shrapnel, laughing and joking, arguing over whose turn it was to use the shower. From nine to five, the air was rent with the bark of gunfire, the earth-shattering thunder of detonating bombs, the screams of fallen enemies...or allies.

So in those rare moments, when all went quiet, it sent a shiver of unease down everyone's spine. This was one of those moments, when the bullets suddenly stopped and an eerie sense of peace descended upon them like a fog.

It filled the Spy with absolute dread.

It meant there was no one left on his team to fire at. It meant they were gone. It meant he was the only one left.

Being a Spy, the situation wasn't entirely hopeless. He could cloak himself for a short time, or disguise himself as the enemy, and if worse came to worse, he always had the Dead Ringer. But in the end, he was still Support Class, and there wasn't much he could do now other than simply survive.

As much as he hated to admit it...he needed his Team.

Or, at the very least, the goddamned Medic.

Grimacing, he pressed a hand against the wound in his leg, biting back a grunt of pain as blood spurted sluggishly between his fingers. It was already leaking through the hastily crafted tourniquet, and if he wasn't careful he'd leave a trail. Several nasty burns were scorched into the flesh of his arm, and his shoulder was a knot of agony from one of the Sniper's arrows.

" _You are the last one remaining,"_ the Administrator coldly informed him over the intercom. As if he needed reminding. " _It's all up to you now."_

Like he could actually _do_ something, other than cower beneath a flight of stairs and pray that his cloaking watch didn't run out. The Soldier and Demoman thundered down the steps above him, eyes scanning the room briefly before moving on. Moments later, the Pyro shouldered his—her? its?—way through the door, the nozzle of the flame-thrower sweeping around in a slow arc.

By chance, it came to rest right in the Spy's face. He stilled instantly, resisting the urge to even swallow, and firmly told his frantic heart to kindly shut the hell up. For a horrific moment, he could have sworn the Pyro saw him, when the masked head cocked to the side like he was some kind of inquisitive dog. His skin broke out into a cold sweat, his breath stuttering in his lungs, and he could almost _feel_ his flesh _burning again—_ _ **not again—**_

But then the flame-thrower moved away, and the Pyro trotted out of the room, none the wiser. Spy let out a shuddering sigh of relief, and slunk off in the opposite direction as stealthily as humanly possible.

" _Defend our Control Point!"_ the Administrator cried, and Spy snorted. There was _no way in hell_. The day was lost. That was all there was to it. All he could do now was run and hide, until time ran out or…

 _She_ found him.

The Spy had marched through Hell more times than he could count. He had had been blown to pieces by a stray rocket, shredded into paste by the Heavy's artillery, burned alive by the Pyro, and stabbed in the back by his own doppelganger. He had died, and died, and died until there was nothing that could faze him.

Until recently, he'd thought the worst that could happen was if the Respawn failed in the middle of a mission, and he and his Team were trapped in a state of perma-death until the system could be rebooted. _If_ the system could be rebooted.

What was happening right now, however, was entirely different.

 _This_...was absolutely terrifying.

One by one his comrades had fallen, _turned_ on him, and with each one he could feel the noose tightening just a bit more. Until he and his companions were forced to fall back, suddenly outnumbered and outgunned, and filled with the dread that they could be next. Almost hoping they would, if only to avoid being left on their own.

Spy rounded the corner, and came face to face with the business end of the Heavy's minigun.

The Medic stood at the Heavy's shoulder, and behind them, the Scout and Demoman grinned wolfishly. The Spy had one bullet left, and his cloaking device had finally fizzled out.

He simply sighed, as the terror singing through his veins congealed into a sickened pit of growing resignation. How many times had he died today? He'd quite lost count. Well, no matter. There was really only one thing to do now.

"Gentlemen," he said evenly, and raised his gun to his temple. "It's been Hell."

And then _she_ appeared.

In a flash of light and the thump of rushing air, she dropped out of nowhere and landed square on the Heavy's minigun, forcing the nose straight into the ground just as it started spitting bullets. The Spy was so startled he simply froze, as the muzzle of her laser-gun came up and pointed directly at his chest. Meanwhile, Heavy was making a sound like that of an angry bear protecting their cubs, clearly outraged at the treatment of his dear Sasha, but the impossible little chit paid him no mind.

"Got you," she said, her infectious smile wide and triumphant. He stared down into the golden tint of her goggles, unable to see her eyes, and smiled back.

" _Oui, mon petit renard,_ " he sighed, withdrawing a cigarette from his coat pocket, as the rest of the enemy Team began to surround him. "You got me."

And she fired.

 **-THREE MONTHS AGO-**

"ALERT!" snapped the Administrator's voice over the intercom. Immediately, nine pairs of eyes turned towards the ceiling, and all activity ceased at once. "A NEW CLASS HAS BEEN ASSIGNED. ESTIMATED ARRIVAL TO BASE: 0900 HOURS TOMORROW. BE READY."

"What?!" the Scout yelped, and shot to his feet so fast he not only managed to knock his chair over, but ended up toppling to the floor in an ungainly sprawl of floundering lanky limbs. "Did—did she say a new _Class_?"

"Hm, indeed," the Spy drawled, and arched a disdainfully mocking brow in Scout's direction as the boy scrambled upright. "Zhey've not added a new Class to zhe roster in...quite some time."

"Last one was Pyro, if I recall," the Engineer nodded, idly scratching his chin with the head of a spanner. The innards of a new teleport system were strewn across the kitchen table in front of him. "But...well, that was a while ago. Seems like ages since I seen anyone new 'round here."

"Could'a given us more of a head's up," Scout muttered.

"Yes, it is a bit short notice," the Medic noted as he stepped through the door, with the Heavy not far behind him. "Ah, vell. Ze more ze merrier, eh? Und it vill be interesting to vork vith a... _blank slate_ vonce more."

From the bloodstains splattered across the Doctor's chest, it wasn't hard to guess he'd been in the lab...experimenting...again. The Medic had been trying to perfect his Ubercharge lately, and was constantly pestering his teammates to "volunteer" as test subjects for The Good of Science. Unsurprisingly, he'd had very little success in this endeavor, and in the end only Heavy had agreed to help him out.

"Ach, who cares?" the Demoman slurred, sloshing a large amount of an indeterminate liquid all over the floor as he staggered unsteadily to his feet. "Aboot time we 'ad a new face aroun' here, I was gettin' bloody sick o' starin' at yer ugly mugs all day."

"MAGGOTS!" the Soldier roared, and kicked open the door. It slammed hard against the wall, bounced back, and smacked Soldier in the face as he tromped into the room. He turned his head sharply, though his expression didn't change an ounce—possibly because he was already scowling as hard as he could anyway—then pulled a rifle and shot the handle clean off.

"Dagnabbit, Solly, I just replaced that from the last time—!"

"What are you all standing around for?" Soldier barked, and somehow managed to entirely ignore the Engineer's cursing altogether. "We've got a new recruit on the way!"

"Tch, yeah," Scout drawled, rolling his eyes. "Tomorrow morning, we know, Soldier."

"And I expect this place to be spick and span by the time our new team-mate gets here, Private!" Soldier shouted, shoving a finger into Scout's chest for good measure. "Look at this pig-sty! Absolutely UNACCEPTABLE! Cleanliness is next to Godliness, son, which is why they'd have SHOT your STUPID head off during the War if you didn't have any clean socks! Now, report to the broom cupboard, men, I want to see my face in these floors come morning!"

"But da floors are all concrete, how are we supposed ta…?"

"I DIDN'T COME IN HERE TO LISTEN TO YOUR CRYING EXCUSES, MAGGOT!"

Spy simply rolled his eyes, and decided to withdraw to his smoking room for the evening. Leaving the two morons to bicker, he moved soundlessly down the hallways, idly wondering what their new team-mate would bring to the table. One never knew what sort of Class they'd get, though immensely destructive seemed to be the norm.

Perhaps it would give them the edge they needed to overcome the deplorable stalemate they'd been locked into for the past two years.

At least things couldn't get any worse.

 **.oOo.**

Scout did _not_ like this.

He did not like this _one_ _bit_.

The early morning sun threw long shadows across 2Fort, already hot as hell, and soon enough it would rise over the battlements to beat down on an unusual scene. On one side of a shallow waterway stood the RED Team, and on the other stood the BLU, each separated by a narrow bridge.

For once...the Administrator had expressly forbidden them from fighting.

The air was thick with tension as both Teams squared off. They hadn't been this close to one another without at least _someone_ blowing up, and it was making more than one of them rather antsy. That morning they'd been directed into the middle of the battleground, and the second they'd laid eyes on one another, instinct had kicked in and their weapons came up. A sharp, hissing reprimand from the Administrator—and the promise of what might happen if she were disobeyed—was the only thing that stopped them from firing. Now they stood in an uneasy sort of truce, barely a hair-trigger away from the usual chaos and bloodshed of the day.

Scout wished more than anything to bash somebody's head in, his hand clenched so tightly around the handle his of baseball bat his knuckles were turning white. Across the way, the other Scout bounced on his heels with nervous energy, his eyes hard and wary beneath his cap.

Both Soldiers stood front and center, trying to glare the other down, and occasionally made threatening gestures or barked insults at one another. Sniper was hanging back, standing in the shade of a three-story tower, his sharp gaze flicking back and forth across the other Team and his spine pressed firmly to the wall. His counterpart had hunkered down in the shadow of a large warehouse, with much the same idea, his jaw clenched so tightly it was a surprise his teeth didn't weld together.

Spy—both of them—affected an air of disinterest, but his attention was sharp and focused, ready to disappear into the battlements at a moment's notice. His balisong was a warm, comforting weight in his hand.

A few paces away, Heavy was absently petting his Minigun, staring longingly over the water at the nine babies who weren't crying for their mamas, and imagining the rain of bullets he could have been showering upon them. He was definitely _not_ happy with the situation.

Neither was Medic, if the shouting match with the Administrator this morning was anything to go by. He'd been eager to test out his latest innovations to the medigun, and being told he was, under no circumstances, to engage with the enemy had not gone over well. Now he stood at Heavy's shoulder, his medigun at the ready, and his prominent mouth set in a hard line of bitter resentment.

The only ones that appeared to be completely unphased were the Pyros. The RED Pyro sat on the edge of the bridge, swinging his feet and dropping flower petals into the water below from a daisy he'd found... _somewhere_. The BLU Pyro was busy stalking a butterfly.

And...well, Demo seemed too sloshed to care either way at the moment. The second he'd figured out he was being told _not_ to attack the enemy, he'd dived nose-first into a large brown bottle and hadn't resurfaced.

"Why d'ya t'ink dey got us all out here like dis?" Scout muttered, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and shooting the BLU Heavy an 'I'm watching you' death-glare out of the corner of his eye. "I mean, dey nevah done anyt'ing like dis before. Makin' us just... _stand around_. I mean—dey're _right dere._ "

"I'm sure we will find out soon enough," Spy shrugged, looking bored, but nonetheless curious.

"ALERT!" snapped the Administrator, causing the RED and BLU Mercenaries to jump like a bunch of skittish cats. Sniper's rifle went off, gouging a sizable hole into the concrete at his feet and he cursed loudly. "THE NEW CLASS WILL BE ARRIVING IN THIRTY SECONDS."

"Cuz, I mean," Scout yammered, nervously wiping sweaty hands across his sky-blue t-shirt. "It ain't like we nevah got a new Class before. But dey'd just come straight ta the Base, ya know?"

"TWENTY-FIVE."

"It's like, come on, what's the deal?" the RED Scout continued. "Why dey gotta make us ALL troop out 'ere ta meet a couple'a newbies? What's _dat_ about?"

"TWENTY."

"It's got me thinkin', ya know?" the BLU Scout went on as he started pacing back and forth, sharp eyes sweeping over the RED Team. "Got me wonderin'. What makes _dem_ so special, huh?"

"FIFTEEN."

"What's different about 'em? I mean, what if dey're—HEY! You stay on your side'a that bridge, buddy, an' i won't hafta cave your stupid face in!"

"TEN."

"Yeah, wit' what? Dem two wet noodles ya call yer arms?!"

"FIVE."

"HOW ABOUT YA COME OVAH HERE AN' SAY DAT TA ME PERSONALLY?"

"FOUR."

"OH, SO NOW YA _WANT_ ME TA COME OVAH DERE? WHAT, CAN'T YA MAKE UP YER MIND? ALSO-WE GOT DE SAME FACE, YA FUCKIN' MORON!"

"THREE."

"WHAT DE HELL DOES _DAT_ HAVE TA DO WIT' ANYT'ING?"

"TWO."

"IT MEANS YA JUST CALLED YER OWN FACE STUPID, STUPID!"

"ONE."

"DAT'S IT! I DON'T CARE WHAT THAT CRAZY OLD BAT HAS TA SAY ABOUT IT, I'M KICKIN' YOUR ASS!"

"BRING IT! I DON'T NEED NOTHIN' TA TAKE _YOU_ DOWN! "

By this time, both Scouts had been standing at opposite ends of the bridge, hands planted against the wooden scaffolding as if they needed to somehow hold themselves back, shouting at the tops of their lungs at one another while their team-mates looked on in vague disinterest. But then the two shot forward like they'd both been simultaneously fired out of a cannon, barreling down the narrow wooden walkway like a pair of charging billy goats about to butt heads.

That's when there was a flash of light, a _whumph!_ of noise, and suddenly there was a confused-looking-and-then-very-alarmed young girl standing between them.

"Oh, shit!" the Scouts yelped, their sneakers skidding uselessly across the planks as they tried in vain to stop—and crashed spectacularly into a pile of flailing limbs and a bluestreak of cussing.

"Scout!" the Medic called, stepping forward, but pausing at the mouth of the bridge. "Vat in the vorld—who is _zat_?"

"GENTLEMEN," the Administrator announced. "MEET THE TURNCOAT."

 **-END TRANSMISSION-**

* * *

 **New story, yay! Been kickin' this idea around for a bit, thought I'd post and see if ya'll liked it. I've got several more chapters written up so far, so leave a review if you'd like to see more of this one. The idea isn't too terribly original at first** **—new class gets added, happens to be a girl, hijinks ensue** — **but with a bit of a new spin. Or at least a spin I haven't seen as of yet in this fandom.**


	2. REPORT 002

**MEET THE TURNCOAT**

 **RETRIEVING FILE…**

 **DATA LOAD 002: FOUND**

* * *

 **-INITIATE TRANSMISSION-**

"Turncoat...?" Scout said, pushing himself up to his elbows and staring upwards as if he actually thought he'd get an answer. He didn't seem to mind at all that he was lying flat on his back with the girl's legs splayed across his stomach. "What's dat supposed ta mean?"

"Um...if you'll let me up, I can...I can explain…" the girl said, biting back a groan and attempting to sit up. This was difficult as the other Scout was half sprawled over her torso, and even with his slender build, he was still a quite a bit bigger than she was.

"Oh, man!" the RED Scout yelped, and scrambled hurriedly to his feet. "Er—sorry 'bout dat…"

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, and offered the other to help the girl up. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes wide and her pulse hammering in her throat, but then slowly accepted. He yanked her to her feet with a bit more force than was necessary, but she recovered quickly and only staggered a little.

"Uh, sorry. Again."

"That's...that's okay," the girl replied a little breathlessly, offering him a tentative smile. Her voice sounded husky, as if she hadn't used it in a very long time. "Th-thank you."

"Yeah, sure, don't mind me or nothin'," the BLU Scout grumbled, climbing laboriously to his feet and swiping the dust from his pants with a few irritable slaps.

"Nobody was, dick-face," the RED Scout sneered. "And if ya hadn't been runnin' yer mouth maybe—"

"Yeah, right, like _yer_ one ta talk!"

"Boys, boys, let's save ze fighting until ve figure out vat's going on, ja?" the RED Medic said, giving the pair a withering glance over the rims of his spectacles, and came to a smart halt before the girl. His eyes lingered coldly on the BLU Scout for a moment longer, and the boy returned it with a hateful glare, refusing to back down. The Medic snorted in thinly veiled contempt before turning to give the girl a much friendlier expression. "Are you alright, Frau Turncoat _?_ You are uninjured, I hope?"

"Oh—yes, I'm fine," the girl replied, having to crane her neck just a bit to meet the man's sharply assessing gaze. "Just a little bruised, I think…" She tried smiling again—despite the well of nervousness and uncertainty in her eyes—but it fell quickly when the Medic return it with one of his own maniacal grins.

"Gut, gut!" he said, apparently taking no notice as she shifted slightly away from him. "Ve vould not vant our new teammate to get hurt before ze battle even starts!"

"If she _is_ a new teammate," Engineer added, leaning against his side of the the bridge's railings and scratching his temple with the head of his wrench. "Sorry, little lady, but I don't see a Team color… Beggin' yer pardon, but what exactly are ya supposed ta be doin' here?"

That was a good question.

In fact, she wasn't wearing _either_ of the the Team colors.

Instead, her short-sleeved double-breasted jacket was made out of some kind of heavy-duty dark grey material, over a pair of matching shorts, and what looked like a full black body-suit. She wore white fingerless gloves, a black utility belt with orange pouches, orange knee pads, and an odd looking pair of black-and-white boots with spring-loaded heels.

A steel gray aviator's cap was pulled snugly down over her hair, with a short black bill and black trim around the ear-flaps. Attached were a pair of black goggles, the golden tint of plexiglass shining reflectively in the light. She was also wearing kind sort of orange and white power pack, not unlike the Medic's, with two large white lights at the top, and orange cables that ran down along both her arms and plugged into a circular device built onto the back of her gloved hands. A round, faintly glowing white light was affixed to the pack's halter, resting over her sternum.

White, magnetic holsters were strapped snugly around her upper thighs, sporting a pair of shiny ceramic black and white guns that looked as if they'd been pulled straight out of the latest science fiction movie, with heavy inspiration from a child's super-soaker.

The orange emblems on her shoulders showed two black arrows, pointing in opposite directions.

Her black hair was cut boyishly short, with a thick bang sweeping sideways across her forehead. Her features gave her a somewhat exotic look, perhaps of Italian or Hispanic descent, with slightly slanted eyes and full lips, but it was difficult to tell what race she truly was. Her skin might naturally have been just a shade darker at some point, but right now it seemed a bit washed out, as if she'd spent too much time indoors and not gotten enough sun.

"You know, I was wondering zhe same thing myself," murmured a voice in her ear, and the girl pivoted smoothly to face the RED Spy as he decloaked directly behind her.

"Yes, it is rather curious," added the same voice, and the girl whirled again to find the BLU Spy smirking smugly down at her with his hands folded neatly behind his back. The two Spies eyed one another speculatively for a moment, but the truce still held, so RED simply gave a small incline of his head and BLU smiled icily. Both of them palmed their balisongs.

"I am also curious!" the BLU Soldier announced as he marched boldly across the bridge and came to attention about a foot away from the girl. "What is the meaning of your title, maggot? ARE YOU A TRAITOR TO YOUR COUNTRY?"

"Um...no, I don't think so."

"...Oh," the Solider said, deflating a little. "Well. Carry on then, Private."

"But den...what's wi't da name?" Scout asked. "I mean, 'Turncoat'...dat's like, Benedict Cumberbuns, right?"

"Benedict _Arnold_ , you dolt," Spy said impatiently with a roll of his eyes. " _Mon dieu_ , you could at least learn some of zhe history of your own country, boy."

"I got da first name, didn't I?" Scout snorted. "Like I need ta know any of dat crap here. Oh, and go to hell, Spy."

"Getting back to ze matter at hand…" the BLU Medic said, keeping a sharp eye on the other Team as they slowly ventured closer. "Perhaps ve could let ze Turncoatexplain."

"Oh," the girl said, shifting her weight a little as both Teams cautiously moved in to get a better look at her—and effectively blocked her in on the narrow little bridge. They kept to their own sides, but it meant she was right in the middle of two heavily armed groups of trigger-happy mercenaries.

A flash of alarm shot briefly through her eyes, but she stifled it quickly and managed to maintain a calm, polite demeanor. She was very careful to keep her hands in plain sight and made no sudden moves. "Well, that's because...I don't technically belong to either Team. Right now I'm sort of in Neutral Mode. You, uh, have to switch me over first."

"Meaning…?" the BLU Spy prodded, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. She turned her back to him, and pointed at the pack over her shoulder.

"See the button?" she asked.

"Ah—yes," Spy blinked, a little surprised that someone would just _willingly_ show him their back, before reminding himself that she didn't know him just yet. Well, that would change soon enough, he supposed.

The button she was talking about wasn't exactly hard to miss. It was big, and white, and set dead center in her pack, faintly glowing like the light on her chest. Her emblem was stamped across it—two bold black arrows pointing in opposite directions.

"It's better to just show you," the girl said, and gave him a small grin. "Press it."

The Spy's fingers were already itching to do so—who could resist a big inviting button, after all?—and he reached out with the faintest twitch of a smile.

"HUDDA!" shouted his Pyro gleefully, before unceremoniously shoving him to the side and enthusiastically pressing the hell out of that button. The girl staggered a little in surprise, while Spy let out an undignified yelp, then straightened quickly and tugged irritably at his lapels. He shot the Pyro a nasty look that promised a slow death later. Naturally, it was completely ignored, because something far more interesting was happening.

The girl's pack emitted a short sound, like a machine powering up, and the button turned light blue. Then, like a domino effect, the grey pigments in the girl's outfit began to turn blue as well, starting in the back and spreading outwards until both her jacket, cap and shorts matched the Scout's sky-blue t-shirt perfectly.

"There," the girl smiled. "Now I'm on your Team. Which means..."

She withdrew one of her pistols—slowly, keeping the nose to the ground—and turned to look at the RED Scout.

"Sorry, but I'm gonna have to shoot you to demonstrate," she said, smiling pleasantly. He scoffed a little, and looked at her like he thought she might be joking. Or was insane.

"...What, seriously?" he asked when her smile just got bigger. "Ya t'ink I'm just gonna stand here an' let ya _shoot_ me?"

"It doesn't hurt, I promise," she replied, though her Cheshire-cat grin was somehow not very comforting.

"Yeah, heard _dat_ one before!" he burst out.

"Stop crying like baby," the BLU Heavy smirked. "If _malyshka_ wants to shoot you, I would not blame her."

"You stay outta dis, lardass!"

"You want come over here and say that again? Sasha would like to say hello."

The girl's gaze flicked back and forth between the arguing pair—soon to be a fighting pair—before she slowly started raising her gun at the Scout's turned back. As she did so, she glanced over her shoulder at the RED Team to see what they would do, clearly giving them plenty of time to stop her if they wanted to.

The Red Sniper chuckled lowly and leaned back against the railing, crossing his arms over his narrow chest with a crooked smile. Demo and Soldier exchanged a look before they both gave her identical shit-eating grins and two thumbs up. Spy raised a brow, the threat of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, before nonchalantly lighting a smoke. Engineer simply tipped his hard-hat to her. The Medic pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his eyes shining with amusement and an eager curiosity to see what the gun would do. Heavy simply snorted at the puny size of her weapon—Scout ate minigun bullets practically everyday. One little pea-shooter shouldn't even faze him at this point.

Pyro just cocked his head.

The BLU Team looked just as interested to see what would happen, and were twice as eager to see a RED get shot in the back, especially if it was _Scout_. Their Heavy was grinning widely, and made sure to keep the Scout's attention firmly fixed in his direction.

Clearly, nobody wanted to stop her.

"Sooo...I'm just gonna…"

"Heh. Go for it, sheila," the BLU Sniper chuckled

"Huh? What?" Scout said, turning back around just as the girl pulled the trigger. He let out a startled yelp, jumping away from her and throwing his hands up reflexively. It took him a moment to realize he was completely unharmed. Demo let out a loud guffaw, and had to put a hand on his knee to keep from falling over laughing. Scout peeked out from behind his hands, and frowned in confusion.

"Uh...nothin' happened?"

"Well, I did say it wouldn't hurt," the girl chuckled, lowering her weapon.

"Aye! Look down, laddie!" the Scot called.

Scout did, and immediately regretted it.

"What da hell is _dis_?" he cried, plucking furiously at his t-shirt. Demo, along with Soldier and Heavy now, only laughed harder.

"Sorry, but...Well, you're BLU now," the girl said, giving him a kind of apologetic shrug. "That's what the Converter Guns do. They turn whoever I shoot over to whatever side I happen to be on. Thus the name—Turncoat."

 **-END TRANSMISSION-**

* * *

 **Just some more set up. The action should kick off in the next chapter or so. Lemme know what ya'll think :)**


	3. REPORT 003

**MEET THE TURNCOAT**

 **RETRIEVING FILE…**

 **DATA LOAD 003: FOUND**

* * *

 **-INITIATE TRANSMISSION-**

"Aw, she got ye _good_!" Demo chortled while Scout held the offending blue shirt he was now wearing away from his chest, as if the fabric might actually burn him or something, and seriously considered just ripping it off entirely.

"Hey, it's not like I was _expectin'_ her ta just—Oh, come on, who asks fer fuckin' _permission,_ anyway? _Stop laughing!_ "

"So, it's kind of like the Auto-Balance System," Engineer observed, ignoring the lot of them to step closer for a better examination. She obligingly held out her pistol and let him turn it over in his hands.

"Exactly," she agreed. "Except the complete opposite. Instead of balancing out the Teams, my job would basically be to get as many people over to one side as possible. It's not just your clothes, either, but your weapons as well. With the Friendly Fire System in place, you'll only be able to shoot at someone from the opposing Team regardless of which side you started out on."

"Ja, ja _!_ " the Medic said with another enthusiastically manic grin. "Vat a clever innovation!"

"That would give great advantage," the BLU Heavy said, nodding thoughtfully.

"Yeah, to whichever side she's on," the Sniper retorted. "Sounds like a right nightmare for the _other_ Team…And it also means we'll be fightin' our own mates."

That was a sobering thought.

Auto-Balance really only ever applied to the respawn clones, generated every now and then by the administrator when she felt there wasn't enough chaos and violence already, but the core Teams had always remained on their side of the War. RED stayed RED, and BLU stayed BLU. Furthermore, it wasn't as if any of the clones were real people, as they never transferred any memories over through the respawn, meaning neither Team had ever been made to fight one of their one.

The thought that they would have to go up against their comrades, men they'd been working and living beside for _years_...was not a pleasant one.

"Well, I _can_ be switched over to the other Team," the girl added slowly, noting how quiet everyone had gotten. "Someone from the opposing Team just has to press the button again."

She glanced at the RED Spy for a moment, before her gaze shifted past him to Pyro, who was already bouncing on his heels in anticipation.

"Um...If you'd please…" she said, with a somewhat apologetic glance at Spy. He simply rolled his eyes and stepped smoothly aside, in no rush to get trampled like his doppleganger by an overly excited fire-starter.

"MMMF!" Pyro cried, clapping his hands in delight, then bounded forward and punched the button. It flashed red this time, followed quickly by the rest of her outfit.

"Now if I were to shoot you again…" she said to the converted Scout, raising her gun and giving him an inquiring look, this time waiting for permission now that he knew what to expect

"Er, yeah, okay…"

She fired, and this time Scout was able to catch what looked like a flash of red energy before his shirt reverted back to its original crimson hue. He'd felt a slight pressure and heat, as if he'd been hit by a compression blast from Pyro's flamethrower, only this was a lot milder.

"Aw yeah, dat's _much_ bettah," he said, shooting her a cocky grin. "Ya gotta admit, red suits me _way_ more."

"Oh yeah, it really matches yer eyes, don't it?" the BLU Scout retorted snidely.

"Hey, at least I don't gotta walk around wearin' _baby blue_ all day," the other Scout snapped back. "Red's for _winners_."

"Yeah? Den how come ya lose all da time? Seems ta me like red's for _whiners_."

"DAT'S IT!"

"So... _malyshka_ uses—what was it you call your weapon?" Heavy asked, pulling the two scuffling Scouts apart and carelessly dropping them over the side of the bridge into the water below. The girl watched this with a mixture of concern and amusement, and was clearly trying not to laugh.

"A glorified laser pointer?" she supplied wryly, cocking a brow. Demo snorted a laugh, and choked himself on the swill of whiskey he'd been gulping down. Soldier pounded his back heartily, making it worse.

"You are funny girl," Heavy said, laying a large hand on her shoulder. Her knees buckled slightly, but she held. "But I am wondering. These weapons—"

"Converter Guns."

"Ah. Yes. These converter guns turn enemies into comrades and comrades into enemies," Heavy went on. "But you do not carry melee weapon. Or secondary gun. How...will you defend…?"

"I guess I gotta get you before you get me," the girl replied, shrugging. She didn't seem to know how to react to the look of disbelief that spread across Heavy's face like slow-moving molasses, pulling his brows together like two converging glaciers and curving his mouth into a deepening frown. He looked down at the minigun clutched in his hands, then at the two little pistols on her hips—which looked more like toys than anything else—and finally back up to meet her gaze. She returned his look steadily, expression calmly understanding.

"If I get sent through respawn, everyone will reset back to their original colors," she explained. "But I'll still be on whichever side got me until someone manages to switch me over."

"You have already been added to ze respawn?" the RED Medic asked sharply, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Vhy vas I not informed? I am ze only one authorized to perform ze necessary medical examination required for—"

" _You_ are ze only one?" the BLU Medic interrupted, drawing himself to his full height with indignant contempt. "Vhy, you arrogant, self-conceited, egomaniacal—"

"Wait, wait, hold on a sec," the BLU Scout cut in impatiently, looking a little flustered. "Ya mean—if somebody tries hurtin' ya, ya can't even _hurt 'em back_?"

"Why would I want to hurt you back?" the girl asked, looking genuinely confused at the whole idea. "I mean, we'll be working together, won't we? Besides, I barely know you."

Scout sputtered for a moment, his mouth opening and closing, but for once in his life he was utterly speechless.

"But—but dat ain't—"

"One last thing," the girl continued, smoothly ignoring any distress in the Scout's expression, her gaze roving steadily across the two Teams to make sure they were listening. "If you get turned to the opposing Team, and that Team wins...you don't get paid."

" _What_?" the RED Scout burst out. "Whaddya mean, we don't get _paid_? But—but ya said we'd be on the winnin' side—"

"Ye mean we may have tae fight fer our enemies—help the bloody mongrels _win—_ and we dinnae even get compensation fer _doin_ ' it?" the Demoman demanded sharply.

"What idiot came up with _that_ idea?" Sniper wanted to know.

"Not this idiot," the girl said quickly, throwing her hands up in a 'I had nothing to do with it' sort of gesture. "You'll have to take that one up with the Administrator."

"I suppose it makes sense," the RED Spy sighed, scowling slightly at the mention of their unseen master. "Ozherwise, one could simply allow zhemselves to be turned onto whichever side happened to be triumphant at zhe time."

"Or an entire Team could switch and claim victory without contest," the BLU Spy added, sounding a bit disappointed that this wouldn't be the case. If only it could be so easy...

"Yeah, something like that," the girl agreed, somewhat regretfully, and the Spy realized she'd already thought of this and wished it was so. "I'll return to Neutral Mode at the beginning of each day, so both Teams have an equal chance of catching me."

" _Catchin'_ you...?" the RED Scout repeated.

"Well, you don't think I'm just gonna stand around and make it easy for you, do ya?" she replied, smiling coyly and cocking a hip.

"RETURN TO BASE. MISSION BEGINS IN TEN MINUTES."

"What?!" the RED Sniper cried sharply. "Now hold on just a—crikey, they're really just tossin' you in, aren't they?"

"I do not feel comfortable with this situation," Soldier announced. "Young girls do not belong on the battlefront. It is a very dangerous place."

"I'm older than I look," the girl said helpfully. She barely looked older than MIss Pauling—and kind of resembled Miss Pauling, too, with her dark hair and blue eyes—so this was not helpful in the slightest. "Besides...I do have _one_ little trick at my disposal."

Suddenly, the light on her chest flashed brightly with the punchy pop of a shorting lightbulb—and she was abruptly standing ten feet away. She balanced nonchalantly upon the railing of the bridge, having completely bypassed almost every single member of the RED Team, and positively beamed at their flabbergasted expressions.

"I'll be doggone, that's a danged teleport strapped to your chest," the Engineer said with an admiring whistle, hands already itching to take the thing apart and see how it worked. Compared to that little number, his own teleport system was left choking in the dust. But a _portable_ system with the capability to transport a body _at will_ to _any_ location...that was impressive. In fact, he'd been trying to pull that one off for years. A task made practically impossible given the sort of cheap technology Mann Co. provided for them.

Which made at least one thing clear: she was _not_ using Mann Co. technology.

"Should make things interesting, yeah?" the girl replied, cocking a smile.

"REPORT TO YOUR STATIONS NOW. MISSION BEGINS IN EIGHT MINUTES."

"Guess that's my cue," the girl sighed. "Well, then. See you on the battlefront, gentlemen. It was...nice to meet you all."

For a fleeting moment, so quickly the Spy was sure he'd imagined it, her expression turned...unspeakably sad. She didn't stop smiling, but a shadow passed through her eyes, like a bird flitting across the sun. Then with a cheeky salute she was gone, flashing across the yard, up to a windowsill, a rooftop, before flipping backwards out of sight.

The Spy glanced around surreptitiously, sure he was the only one to have caught...whatever that was. No, wait—of course the _other_ Spy had seen it, too. He'd been standing closer, as well, and the two of them had the keenest sense of observation out of anyone on their Teams. No chance they'd imagined it, then.

They exchanged a look.

They'd both be keeping a close eye on her.

The RED and BLU Teams squared off in an uneasy silence after the girl had disappeared, not quite sure what to make of the situation just yet. Despite all the chaos and violence of the battlefield, things had remained relatively stable for the last few years. Nothing had changed in a very long time, and the dynamic within the Teams had become...almost comfortable. Predictable.

Apparently, the Administrator felt it was time to shake things up again.

There was also the fact that the circumstances of this introduction were suspicious. Typically, Miss Pauling brought any new Class straight to the Base, and gave them a few days at least to get settled. Granted, there would be only _one_ Turncoat so perhaps meeting them all at once like this was simply the most convenient way, but still...there hadn't even been time for introductions before the Administrator ordered the mission to start. The poor girl knew nothing of the other Classes, or how they worked, or even their names.

The Spy paused, his cigarette dangling forgotten off his lip for a moment as the two Teams slowly disengaged from one another and headed back to Base. He got the distinct feeling their new...teammate?...was being thrown to the wolves.

And she knew it.

The only question was...why?

 **-END TRANSMISSION-**


	4. REPORT 004

**MEET THE TURNCOAT**

 **RETRIEVING FILE…**

 **DATA LOAD 004: FOUND**

* * *

 **-INITIATE TRANSMISSION-**

"MISSION BEGINS IN TEN SECONDS. ADDITIONAL OBJECTIVE AVAILABLE: CAPTURE THE TURNCOAT BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY."

Turncoat took a slow steadying breath and willed her heart to stop frantically throwing itself against her rib-cage like a wild animal. She stood at the highest vantage point she could find on the map, waiting for the fight to begin with something like unmitigated terror.

' _It's alright_ ,' she thought, hoping to calm herself down. Her hand drifted down to the stock of one of her Converter Guns, and wrapped firmly around it. It felt strange in her grip—she was used to something a bit bigger—but if she wanted better mobility the twin pistols was ideal. She'd get used to them. ' _I've come this far. I'm here._ Nothing _is going to stop me.'_

"MISSION BEGINS NOW!"

The faint sound of battle-cries echoed through the warehouses of 2Fort, and Turncoat straightened to attention. Time to get to work. An explosion went off in the distance, followed by a short burst of gunfire and the first agonized scream of the day. The frenzied laughter of victory cut off suddenly in a choked gurgle.

Turncoat stepped off the edge of the roof, allowed herself to fall a short distance, before she flickered away fifteen feet and landed lightly on the building below. The springs in her boots absorbed the heavy impact without a hitch and she took off running, bouncing lightly with every step. She was just about to leap across the gap onto the next building over, when there was a loud explosion below and a man wearing a RED Army jacket and carrying a freaking rocket launcher sailed into view and landed with a heavy thud in front of her. Turncoat skidded to a halt, and gave him a somewhat incredulous smile.

"Did you just...launch yourself up here with a _bazooka_?" she asked, laughing at the absolute absurdity of it. The man hefted the weapon over his shoulder with a wolfish grin.

"Hello, Miss Turncoat," he said, saluting smartly.

"Hello," she said cheerfully. "Who are you, then?"

"I am Soldier," the man replied, slowly advancing as she backed away from him. "I apologize for not introducing myself earlier. It was an inexcusable breach of protocol."

"That's quite alright," Turncoat said, shaking her head and skipping to the right as Soldier lunged for her. He seemed a little unsure of himself, uncertain how to go about actually catching her now that she was in front of him. He laid a hand on the shotgun at his hip, but seemed reluctant to draw on her. If he tried to threaten her with it she'd just teleport away, and if he shot her…

 **.oOo.**

" _Right, I'm just gonna say it now," Scout said, his tone belligerent. They were back in the Base, waiting for Mission Start in the Respawn Room. A few of his fellow mercenaries glanced up, their interest mildly peaked, though most of them had a feeling they already knew what he was going to say. "Anybody hurts Miss Turncoat, dey answer ta_ me _."_

" _Scout, it ain't that simple, mate," Sniper sighed, running a hand through his hair. "What if the BLUs get a hold of 'er? Now—hold on—I ain't sayin' I'm comfortable killin' the little sheila, 'specially since she can't really foight back, but think about it. If she's turnin' our whole Team and the only 'ope we got is ta put 'er down, then—"_

" _Den I'll bash yer fuckin' skull in, ya bush-whackin' jackass!" Scout snarled, brandishing his bat menacingly._

" _It ain't like she'll_ die _, not really," Sniper retorted. "She'll just respawn, like the rest of us—"_

" _Dat ain't da point!" Scout argued doggedly._

" _Aye, lad, we get it," Demo said with a placating wave. "The lassie's a wee pretty thing, but...we got a job tae do. If it comes down tae a choice between her and a paycheck…"_

" _So, what? You'll just blow her up?" Scout demanded angrily, turning on the Scot with a feral snarl._

" _Nein, of course not," the Medic scoffed, pulling the boy back gently. "Ve vill simply have to capture ze_ _fraulein_ _first, zen ve can protect her unstead,_ und _ve vill have ze advantage. Given your speed and maneuverability, you have ze best chance at succeeding. I suggest zhat you make it your top priority."_

" _Right...right!" Scout said, his mood brightening considerably. "I just gotta get 'er first and dere's no problem! Piece of cake!"_

 **.oOo.**

"Scout, I am in pursuit of the Turncoat," Soldier said, activating the short-wave radio transceiver in his ear.

" _On my way, Soldier!"_

"Scout—is he the one with the baseball bat?" Turncoat asked conversationally as Soldier made another grab for her. She ducked away easily and danced back a few steps, keeping a close eye on him and her surroundings. The man was just too slow, but what he lacked in speed he made up for with sheer pigheadedness.

"Yes, he should be here shortly," Soldier replied. "Surrender now and you will not be harmed."

"Sorry, but I can't do that," Turncoat said, smiling politely, before she dropped over the edge of the roof with a jaunty salute and sprinted down the alley.

"Scout, she is heading towards the BLU Base!" Soldier shouted, running along the rooftop after her, just as two men in blue uniforms came barreling around the corner in Turncoat's direction. The first was a veritable mountain of a man, with arms as big around as tree trunks, hefting the biggest gun Turncoat had ever seen. He spotted her first, and lifted the minigun on instinct, but stopped himself from firing on her with a look of deep chagrin. The other, wearing a long white lab coat of sorts. pulled his syringe gun with hard determination stamped across his features, and fired a volley of needles straight at her. So, they probably wouldn't kill her, just slow her down...or maybe they _would_ kill her, but slowly enough that she could be captured. Best to avoid them, then. The Turncoat gave the man a sharp grin before she teleported forward at the last second, passed harmlessly through the spray of hypodermics, bounced off the giant's shoulder, and flickered out of range again.

" _Scheisse_!"

"You're gonna have to try harder than that!" she called as the giant turned his attention on Soldier, who'd taken the opportunity to fire a rocket in their direction.

"GET DOWN, DOKTOR!"

The howl of pain made Turncoat stumble to a halt, and spin on her heel just as the bloody remains of an arm flew past her head and hit the wall behind her with a wet splat. The giant had taken the full brunt of the blast, and huge chunks of burned flesh were strewn across the ground. The doctor lay some distance away, clutching the bleeding stump at his shoulder and groaning into the dirt.

Turncoat froze.

It was like the whole world just stopped, and all the color drained out, until all that was left was the vivid red stain of blood. Her lungs stopped working. Her heart tried to claw its way up through her throat and out her mouth and she had to swallow back a stomach full of bile as her insides suddenly heaved.

She'd thought she was used to bloodshed by now.

She was so, so wrong.

"Fr _..._ Frau Turncoat…" the doctor coughed, blood dripping down his chin, his eyes unfocused and clouded with pain. Turncoat jumped, startled, looking lost and frightened. She approached him haltingly, eyes flicking from the gaping wound of his severed arm, to his face, and back again. He looked up at her in mild confusion, his gaze assessing, even as he bled out into the dirt.

"I—I'm sorry—" she stuttered, breathlessly. "I didn't mean to—I didn't think—"

"...I understand," the doctor murmured quietly, his gut twisting hard even as he palmed the handle of his bone-saw. "...Und I also apologize."

"What do you—"

"Turncoat! Get away from—!"

The doctor lunged forward, his hand lashing out with surgical precision, and sliced neatly through the girl's throat as she moved to help him sit up. She let out a choked sound of surprise, and staggered against his chest, quickly bleeding out onto the white fabric of his coat. His good arm came up slowly to support her...and to press the button at her back.

"It is nice to meet you, Fraulein _,_ " he said quietly in her ear, watching her uniform switch from red and grey to red and blue. "I am ze Medic. Velcome to ze Var."

She looked up at him, her eyes already going empty, head resting against his shoulder…and huffed out a quiet laugh.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

The RED Scout's bat collided hard with his cheek and the Medic's head snapped around at the impact. He let out a startled curse, and spat out a mouthful of blood. The Soldier's hands buried themselves in his lapels, and he was jerked upright again, his nose smashing into the man's Army helmet. He heard a dull snap, and knew it was broken. Along with several of his front teeth.

But he did not let go of the Turncoat.

Not until he felt the last breath shudder in her lungs as she died.

"Why did you do that?!" Scout demanded angrily, and didn't seem capable of tearing his eyes away from the body slumped lifelessly in the Medic's arms. "She was—she was tryin' ta _help_ _you_ , Godammit! She wasn't even on anybody's side yet!"

"Yesh," the Medic agreed through his broken mouth, with a sharp, bloody smile. "Bud now she ib on _oursh_."

"... _Bastard_ ," Soldier spat, then pulled his shotgun and aimed it right between the Medic's eyes. The Doctor sighed, his expression resigned and steady. Soldier sneered and jerked his chin at Scout, who moved to pull the girl out of his arms. Then the the gun began to move, slowly lowering across his chest, his stomach...until it came to rest just above his groin. The Medic lifted a brow, the pulse in his throat jumping.

"Well, she won't be on your side for long," Soldier leered. "We'll get her back. And when we do, we'll have a little present waiting for her. Because that's what women like, right?"

He cocked the hammer.

"Presents."

 **.oOo.**

Turncoat appeared in the BLU Respawn Room with a choked gasp, and immediately collapsed to the floor on her hands and knees. Her limbs were shaking, and it felt like a colony of fire ants had taken up residence beneath her skin. Everything tingled, as if her entire body had fallen asleep at once, and the pins and needles were like electric static. Her stomach heaved, and emptied her breakfast onto the floor.

She swallowed several deep breaths and staggered drunkenly to her feet, reaching out towards the wall for support and leaning heavily for a moment, trying valiantly to regain control—and to suppress the hysterical laughter bubbling up in her throat like frothing acid. She succeeded, but just barely, her expression twisted by a dark, triumphant grin.

She was _still alive._

It had _worked_.

 _Ha._

A hand rested on her shoulder, and she leaped away with a sharp gasp, thinking for a horrified moment that the Medic must have followed right after her—Crap, she wasn't ready to—

"Whoa there, little lady, I ain't gonna hurt ya," the man in the hardhat said, lifting his hands in a soothing gesture, his southern drawl warm and friendly. He lifted his goggles and gave her a quick, appraising gaze, before he nodded at her trembling hands. "I'm afraid the Respawn don't get any better, but you'll get used to it, in time. That tingling sensation? That's your brain testin' your nervous system, makin' sure everything still works an' all. Actually, you're handlin' it a lot better than some of the others did their first time."

"Ah—well, that's because it's _not_ my first time through Respawn," Turncoat explained, earning a genuinely surprised look, and she shrugged a little. "There was a similar sort of system at...my last job. This one's a bit...um, rougher? But it's not too bad."

"Huh," the man said. "Here I thought ours was the only one. I'd ask where ya worked before but...well, that'd be breakin' contract. They're pretty strict 'round here about that sort of thing. I'm the Engineer, by the way, but you can just call me Engie if ya like."

"It's nice to meet you, Engie," Turncoat smiled, shaking his hand. His grip was firm, but not crushing, and his smile genuine.

"So...which one of them did it?"

"I'm sorry?" Turncoat said, a little taken aback by the sudden change in topic. And the sudden edge of steel in his southern drawl.

"Which of those RED bastards killed you?" the Engineer clarified quietly, his grip tightening ever so, and the smile falling away into a stony frown. The Turncoat gazed back at him somberly, eyes tracking slowly across his face. In the back of her mind, a cold dark corner idly wondered how he'd react if she told him it had been one of his own teammates.

She shook her head.

"It was my fault, actually," she replied, smiling a bit sheepishly. "I should have been paying more attention. Rookie mistake, I suppose."

"But—"

"Well, then, we've got some Intelligence to capture and/or defend, don't we?" the Turncoat said, spinning away from him. "Now that I'm on a Team, I actually get to use these." She drew one of her pistols and spun it experimentally, grinning back at him over her shoulder. "Come on, I've been dying to shoot some people all morning."

The Engineer laughed, and hefted his toolkit as he followed after her.

"Even if you're not usin' real bullets?" he chuckled.

"Well, it beats running away all the time," she shrugged, grinning.

As they stepped out of the Respawn Room, the Turncoat glanced back—briefly—and a tight uneasiness tugged at her insides. The Medic had been hurt, badly enough that it was unlikely he'd escaped from Soldier, and Scout hadn't been too far away. She'd thought the doctor would be right behind her…but he hadn't.

A cold shiver trickled down her spine, and she picked up the pace.

 **.oOo.**

Sometime later, Turncoat was sprinting through the winding alleys of 2Fort, running as fast as her legs would go, and firing haphazardly over her shoulder in a desperate attempt to shake the RED Scout hot on her trail.

Since the BLU Medic had turned her over to his side, that Scout had been utterly relentless. He'd been so determined she hadn't even had time to catch up with the BLU Team, as he always seemed to know where she was going, _and_ the quickest routes to take in order to cut her off. Shortly after she'd left the Engineer to set up a few turrets, the RED Scout hunted her down, and she hadn't gotten a moment's rest since.

Everywhere she went, he was right there, herding her away from the noise of combat—and his teammates—back towards the RED Base on the other side of the map. She was fairly certain their Sniper had been keeping tabs on her as well, informing Scout of her position, as she'd been tracked several times by his laser-sight but hadn't been shot at...yet.

The BLU Team had tried coming to her rescue a few times, but now they were all the way across the gravel pits trying to defend their Intelligence and they couldn't reach her. And because of that damn Scout she was so busy trying not to get switched over, she couldn't even think about converting anyone else. Which, alright, pretty much sucked, but it also meant they didn't have much reason to try and kill her just yet.

Sweat poured down her back, prickling her neck and dripping into her eyes as the sun climbed ever higher, scorching the sand below and turning the entire gravel pit into an oven. The RED Team's giant and black cyclops waved cheerfully at her as she bolted past their Respawn Room, on their way back to the front. She skidded around and charged them, trying to get within firing range, but Scout was one step ahead, slamming down in front of her from who knows where. Thinking fast, she made a jump behind him and fired several shots at the grinning REDs, but they had more than enough time to move aside, laughing at her as they stepped onto a nearby teleport and vanished.

That was the other problem. Her Converter Guns were designed to shoot at stationary targets, and she'd not had the chance to re-calibrate them just yet. She hadn't been given the time. She practically had to shoot at point blank range if she wanted to hit anything, otherwise the energy blasts simply meandered their way through the air, leaving a whispy trail in their wake, and compared to bullets, they were humiliatingly easy to avoid.

She snarled a frustrated curse, feet skidding on concrete as she zigzagged through an open warehouse, Scout barreling towards her at frankly _impossible_ speeds. As he zipped closer, she was forced to turn and fire wildly in his direction. He dodged with a laughing whoop, sliding under the last shot like he was making a fucking home run or something.

"Hey, dat one almost hit me!" he cried, ducking around another shot and trying to herd her into a corner. "Come on, keep at it, yer gettin' bettah at dis! Da next one's gonna get me for sure—oh, who am I kiddin'? Ya ain't got a chance, sister."

"Look you, I haven't actually had a chance to use these things before now, alright?" she huffed irritably, and blinked to the other side of the room when he got too close. "And I'm used to shooting at stationary targets. Gimme a break, I'm doing the best I can."

"Seriously?" Scout said, suddenly rushing her and forcing her to scramble up and over a pile of crates in the corner, trying to dance around so her back was always turned away from him. "When did dey recruit you?"

"Um...yesterday?"

" _What_?" Scout yelped, nearly tripping, and she fired quickly. He twisted himself around so fast he almost fell over backwards, before dropping into a roll and scrambling for cover.

"Yes, it was very...short notice," Turncoat nodded, moving around to flank the boy for a clean shot. "I imagine adjusting will be difficult. Maybe you could help me out a little and stand still so I can shoot you?"

"Yeah right, lady!" Scout shouted. "I ain't fallin' fer _dat_ one again!"

"Oh, come on, you know it doesn't hurt," Turncoat grinned, peeking around the edge of a wall, hoping to spot a flash of red. "Pretty please? For old time's sake."

"Old times?!" Scout burst out, laughing as he snuck around all stealthy-like, wanting to get the drop on her. She whipped about at the last minute and fired off several shots, but he spent the majority of his time dodging bullets. Compared to that, the energy blasts seemed to move at a snail's pace, and he managed to duck away with an impressive feat of acrobatics that did not look coordinated at all and yet still kept him well out of the line of fire. "Dat was dis mornin'!"

"How times flies when you're having—"

 _Beep-beep-beep!_

Turncoat's head snapped around, her eyes widening in the horrified realization that she'd just run straight into the path of an enemy turret. She stumbled in a desperate panic, trying to back-peddle, her teleport clicking uselessly—too late. The bark of gunfire made her ears ring as white-hot agony ripped through her chest and stomach, tearing her insides to shreds. A bullet ricocheted off her spine, and her legs collapsed beneath her. Automatically, she bit down on the short, sharp cry of pain as she hit the dirt, arms already clutching at her middle in a futile attempt to stem the pool of blood soaking into the sand. There was so much of it...

The world was suddenly too bright, too harsh, too much...It reeled and spun into a kaleidoscope of blurred colors and distorted sound, all blending together. In the distance, someone was shouting, and there was an odd crashing sound, like metal striking metal over and over.

And then a pair of trainers skidded into view, but Turncoat was already sinking into black nothingness, while everything slowly drifted apart...

 **-END TRANSMISSION-**

* * *

 **And now, finally, the action begins! Poor Turncoat isn't doing so well here I'm afraid. Scout's gonna be PISSED too, he's been trying to catch her all morning, and now he's gotta go hunt her down all over again. And, oh? What's that? Is that the plot, peeking out from under the bed? How interesting.  
**

 **Lemme know what ya'll think, reviews are greatly appreciated. And hey! The more you review, the more motivated I'll be to keep writing! Imagine that!**

 **Raha**


	5. REPORT 005

**MEET THE TURNCOAT**

 **RETRIEVING FILE...**

 **DATA LOAD 005: FOUND**

* * *

 **-INITIATE TRANSMISSION-**

Concrete—florescent lights—the taste of bile—

"Breathe, Malyshka. Just breathe."

There was a heavy weight on her back, and Turncoat finally managed to open her eyes. She was back in Respawn, face down on the floor, her arms wrapped around her middle where the phantom pain of bullets was slowly fading. The Russian giant was crouched next to her, gently rubbing her shoulder. There was a furrow of concern between his brows, but his gaze was steadfast and calm. The ants were back, swarming beneath her skin as she uncurled and began the arduous task of forcing herself to her feet. She shook her head, doggedly tamping down on the nervous twisting knots in her stomach, and just a little put out with her body for acting this way—like she'd never been shot by a turret before. Honestly.

She just wasn't used to all this excitement. All this noise and chaos. All these _people_.

Calm. She just needed to calm down.

An enormous hand lowered into her field of view, and she glanced uncertainly up at the Russian, before accepting the offer with a hesitant smile. She half-expected to get her fingers crushed, and was a bit surprised when his grip was surprisingly gentle as he pulled her up, his hand almost comically dwarfing her own.

"Thank you," she said, nodding gratefully to him, brutally wrestling her tone into something mildly polite, instead of the shaking mess it wanted to be. "I'm alright now."

"First few days is always hardest," the man replied, his eyes understanding. "But you recover quickly. You are strong. This is good—most men cry like little babies."

"Ach, ye say tha' like ye didn't lose yer lunch all over the floor the first week and a half on the job," groused a thick Scottish bur, and Turncoat leaned around the Russian to get a look. She found a dark-skinned man sprawled across the bench near the lockers on his back, a grenade launcher on the floor next to him, and an unlabeled brown bottle of some indeterminate liquid clutched in one hand. His left eye was covered with a black patch. Like a pirate, she mused. All he needed was a peg-leg and a parrot.

"Heavy evacuated stomach, yes," the Russian agreed, nodding, but his eyes were hard as he gazed back at the man. "But Heavy did not cry."

"Ah, go boil yer 'ead," the Scot slurred, waving the bottle around and sloshing quite a lot of booze down his front. He let out a stream of muttered curses, halfheartedly trying to wipe it off what looked like some kind of full-torso bullet-proof vest, before he gave up and accepted the fact that he now smelled heavily of alcohol, instead of just a lot like alcohol.

"So, your name's...Heavy?" Turncoat asked, cocking her head a bit, like a curious dog. "Is that short for Heavy Artillery, or something?" She eyed the large multi-barreled mini-gun sitting on the bench next to him with a fair bit of uneasiness, silently thankful he hadn't tried shooting her with it earlier.

The man blinked down at her for a moment, before his brows shot up in surprised revelation and he gave her a toothy grin.

"Did not think of that one before!" he said, clapping a hand to her shoulder hard enough to make her knees buckle. "All this time I just call myself the Heavy Weapons Guy. But—the Heavy Artillery. Ohh, da. I like the sound of that."

"Aye, tha' does sound a lot better," the Scot agreed. "Too bad it's too late tae change it. Them pencil-pushin' pin-dicks up at 'eadquarters won't like havin' tae rewrite all yer paperwork, I'm thinkin'."

"Then Heavy will break them all in half," Heavy replied without missing a beat, and crossed his arms with a decidedly mulish expression, as if daring the Scot to argue.

"Ha ha! Now, I'd pay money tae see that, laddie," the man laughed, holding his bottle up in a toast, and Heavy grinned viciously. The Scot chuckled, and took another long swig. When he finally came up for air again, he smacked his lips in satisfaction, and gave Turncoat a friendly nod. "I'm the Demoman, by the way, since ye didn't ask."

Turncoat huffed at his teasing tone and affected a haughty look of scorn in return.

"Oh my, you're _right_ , how _rude_ of me," she drawled, though there was the hint of a playful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "A _pleasure_ to make your acquaintance, Mr. Demoman. Please accept my most humble apology that I did not immediately seek you out in this bullet-storm and demand to know who you were at once."

"Alright, alright, there's no need tae get sassy," the Demoman snorted, rolling his good eye in amusement. "And Mr. Demoman is a wee bit much, if ye ask me. Demo will do."

"Oh...thank you. Well then, now that we're all properly acquainted and everything, shouldn't we...?" she trailed off, glancing from the Demoman to the door and back again, having noticed that neither of them were in a hurry to leave. Perhaps they shouldn't all be idling around in the Spawn room while the Team fought to complete the mission. They were supposed to be in the middle of a war, after all.

But Demo was waving a dismissive hand at her and shaking his head.

"I wouldn't, lass," he told her solemnly. "Them RED bastard's 'ave been campin' outside fer the last ten minutes. Ain't no one leavin' 'ere until somebody can deal with 'em."

"Camping?" Turncoat asked.

"Aye, meanin' they sit outside our Spawn and shoot anyone tha' pokes 'is 'ead out," Demo explained.

"Ah, that makes much more sense," she nodded, cocking a smile. "For a second there, I was picturing tents and a camp fire and maybe s'mores."

Demo barked out a laugh and shook his head, while the Heavy snorted, his face twisting in amusement at the image. "No, not that kind of campin', lass," he chuckled, before his face darkened into a slight scowl. "Although...their Engineer did pull out that bloody lawn-chair of 'is, so maybe ye ain't too far off the mark there."

"Who else is out there?" Turncoat asked, glancing towards the large metal garage-type door.

"Hm, well," Demo said, rubbing the dark stubble on his chin and regarding her thoughtfully through his one good eye. "Their Demoman's been trappin' the door with stickies, so those'll take care of anyone foolish enough tae try and leave. The sentry'll get anyone within sight, and their Sniper's good enough tae pick off the rest. There might be more, but I havna 'ad the chance tae get a good look before they turn me intae paste. I reckon the others are out lookin' fer the rest of me teammates, and without Medic, it's just a matter of time before—"

Demo was cut off by a sudden flash of light and the punchy pop of electricity as the Respawn spat out one of his teammates. The BLU Soldier's boots hit the ground running as he charged forward, bellowing at the tops of his lungs as if he hadn't even noticed he'd just died. Turncoat felt just a tiny bit envious of that ability.

"Solly, wait—!" Demo shouted, but it was too late. The door slid open with a metallic hiss, and suddenly the room was rocked with a series of explosions that kicked her ear-drums right in and sent her staggering into Heavy. There was a short, shocked scream, followed by a storm of gunfire and then silence as the door snapped shut once more. Raucous laughter echoed from outside, sprinkled through with cat calls and a few mocking taunts, but the world was ringing too loudly to make them out clearly.

Turncoat cautiously opened her eyes, her heart hammering in her throat, and realized the Heavy had thrown his arms around her in the split second before the turret went off, turning them so she was shielded from the line of fire. She was pressed firmly against his barrel chest, feet dangling off the ground, while his tree-trunk arms practically enveloped her. She squirmed a little when he didn't immediately let go, and glanced up at his face uncertainly.

"Heavy...?"

The man grunted, his grip tightening, before a trail of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth and fell onto her cheek. She felt her breath catch, her chest constricting, even as the Heavy gently set her back down. He swayed for a moment, gazing down at her with solemn eyes, before finally pitching forward, like a felled tree.

"Heavy!" Turncoat cried, wanting both to move out of the way and to slow his fall enough that he didn't bust his nose on the pavement, but the man certainly wasn't named for his weapon alone. Her knees all but collapsed beneath her, and she just managed to keep him from crushing her completely, if little else. Instead she ended up half-buried beneath him, her legs pinned and the man's head cushioned against her stomach. Heavy let out a low, rumbling groan, and Turncoat felt her heart skip at the sight of his back, eyes wide and her knuckles pressed to her mouth in mute horror.

Breathing fast and shallow, she looked around for Demo, only to spot him lying in a pool of his own blood just a few feet away. His head was turned towards her, his good eye nothing but a neat bloody hole. By the door, the Soldier was splattered across the floor in a dozen meaty pieces. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, her teeth sinking into the flesh at the base of her thumb, and willed her heart to stop trying to hammer its way out through her rib-cage.

When she looked again, the Demo and Soldier were gone...but the Heavy was still pinning her. He was alive. Unconscious, bleeding out, but alive. Which meant she was trapped until someone else came along to help her, or Heavy Respawned. Or...

The Soldier.

He was going to Respawn any minute now. If he charged the door again...

She could hear the Demoman outside laying down more bombs, could hear the thunk as they hit the door, at least half a dozen times. Where had the sentry been? The bullet holes in the Heavy's back looked like they were straight on, so it must be dead ahead. If she ducked down, it would probably finish off Heavy, and she'd be free. But...

She looked down at the giant, and felt her heart twist. He'd saved her life. He didn't even know her, and he'd taken bullets for her. There had to be a way to save him in return. There had to...

Frantically, she glanced around, mind racing, aware the Soldier could appear any second now. She tried wriggling, pushing at Heavy's broad shoulders in an attempt to free her legs, but the man was built like a brick house and she quickly gave up, knowing it was useless. She tried reaching for her gun instead, but Heavy was in the way, and she wasn't entirely certain the Converter Guns would even work on a sentry, much less that she'd actually manage to hit it before it shot them both to pieces.

There was a white cabinet with red crosses that she guessed held some kind of medkit, like the ones she'd seen scattered throughout 2Fort, but it was clear on the other side of the room, so that was out. The only thing she _could_ reach right now was a white lab coat hanging in a locker nearby, but she very much doubted it would be able to protect them from freaking bullets and _Goddammit she couldn't do a thing but sit here and **wait to die**_ —

Unless.

She eyed the lab coat, thinking. The turret didn't shoot at its own, so the Engineer must have programmed it so it only shot at BLU targets. Or rather, _blue_ targets. But if it didn't see any blue...would it still fire? One way to find out. She yanked the coat off its hanger, and turned the sleeves inside out so the BLU emblems weren't visible. It just covered Heavy's torso, but that was all they needed, surely? Just as long as his shirt didn't show...She threw it over the both of them, and hunkered down across his shoulder, trying to make herself as small as possible.

Not a moment too soon. The Soldier Respawned with another flash, already screaming in rabid fury, and rushed the door again as if he could somehow _force_ the bullets into submission with willpower alone. The door snapped open, and the Soldier was hurled across the floor as the bombs detonated at his feet, adding to the blood stains still lingering from the last time.

There was a tense moment of silence, filled only with the faint beeping of the sentry outside. Turncoat watched the Sniper's laser-scope wander slowly across the lab-coat just above her head, the red light shining dully through the fabric, and went absolutely still.

"What the hell—" someone shouted, but then the door snapped shut, and Turncoat let out a shuddering sigh of relief. A few moments later, the Demoman reappeared, clutching his head with a guttural groan and flopping back onto the bench as if all the bones in his body had suddenly and mysteriously vanished.

"Um...a little help, please?" Turncoat said meekly, peeking out from under the labcoat. Demo glanced over, stared groggily at her for a moment, before his eye snapped open and he jerked upright again.

"What in the bloody 'ell—" he started, staggering to his feet and moving towards her. "...What are ye doin' under 'eavy?"

"Hiding from the sentry, what did you think I was doing?" she retorted huffily, gesturing towards the door.

"With a _lab-coat_?" Demo snorted.

"Yes, with a lab-coat. Now, would you _please_ —"

"And that...actually _worked_?" Demo asked, incredulous, before he slapped his knee and let out a bark of laughter. "That's—that's bloody _brilliant_ , lass! I didn't even know ye _could_ trick a sentry. Ohhh, if I'd only known this sooner, I could 'ave 'ad _so much fun_ with that bloody Engineer. Ah, the possibilities..."

"Plot your revenge later, alright? Just help me get him off," Turncoat said impatiently, and frowned in confusion when instead of helping, a devilish look stole across the Demo's face, and he shot her a wolfish grin.

"If I were you, lassie, I wouldn't be talkin' about gettin' anyone _off_ , especially not from where _yer_ sittin'," he leered, waggling his brows. "Even askin' a man tae ' _elp..._ Shame on ye. Me mum would tan yer backside."

"What in the world are you—" Turncoat demanded, before what he'd said sank in and her jaw dropped in scandalized shock. " _Demoman_! That is _not_ what I meant, and you know it!" she half-shrieked. "Now get this giant off of me!"

"Hm, I dinknow, 'e looks pretty comfortable from 'ere."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure a spine full of bullets is _very_ comfortable," Turncoat snapped, folding the lab-coat back to reveal the massive bloodstains soaking through Heavy's blue shirt. Demo hissed, and moved towards the medical cabinet at once.

"Bloody 'ell, woman, why didn't ye say somethin' sooner?" he demanded, grabbing a medkit and snapping it open with quick, practiced movements.

"I would have if you weren't so busy making ridiculous insinuations!" she retorted, her cheeks still burning while Demo pulled out a large syringe, filled with some sort of light blue liquid, and injected it straight into Heavy's arm.

"What's that?" Turncoat asked, eyeing the needle.

"Same stuff the Doc uses in 'is medigun, just a wee bit more concentrated," Demo explained. "Works faster, but I 'ate usin' em. Never liked needles all that much, ever since I was a boy. 'e'll be wakin' up soon, though, don't ye worry."

She looked, and found that Heavy's wounds were already closing up, leaving only the bloodstains behind.

"But what about the bullets?" she asked. "Aren't they still lodged inside?"

"Aye, normally, but the Respawn doesn't _just_ work on livin' things," Demo explained. "It can get rid o' bullets just as easily. S'what replaces used medkits and ammo, keeps us from accidentally hittin' our teammates, and it's also what takes our weapons when we lose. Means the Doc don't 'ave tae waste all 'is time pullin' shrapnel out of our arses and we don't 'ave tae go back tae Spawn every time we run low on 'ealth or ammunition. Keeps things movin' along, I suppose."

"Wait, what do you mean it _takes_ your weapons—" Turncoat began, only to cut off as the Respawn pulsed, and she realized she'd _forgotten about Soldier_. The second he was corporeal again, he started screaming bloody murder, and _charged_.

"NO, SOLLY!"

"GET DOWN!"

Turncoat had just enough time to duck beneath the coat, while Soldier was turned into a shower of blood and Demo all but exploded into paste when a volley of freaking _missiles_ shrieked through the air and hit him full in the chest. She lay there for a moment, panting with adrenaline and terror, while the sentry beeped, looking for another target. The flimsy little coat they were hiding under might have fooled the sentry, but not the others. Part of her was braced, waiting for someone to start shooting, but no one did. It wasn't like they were completely covered or anything, so it was obvious there was a body under the coat, and as big as Heavy was it wouldn't be hard to guess it was him. Maybe they all thought he was dead? The idea to hide had clearly never occurred to Demo, so perhaps it had never occurred to anyone else either. Maybe they all just assumed someone like Heavy would _never_ hide as long as he had breath in his body.

Maybe she'd actually get away with this.

But then Heavy chose that moment to groan, wrap his arms around her waist, and nuzzle his face into her stomach.

She was supremely glad Demo couldn't see her blush. He'd have laughed his arse right off.

" _Hey_!" shouted a familiar voice as the door slid closed once more. "Dat sonovabitch ain't _dead_! Dat ain't fair, ya can't just _hide_ from da sentry like dat, ya fat fuckin' bastard! I mean, what da hell is _dat_ crap? Callin' _us_ a bunch'a cowards, while _you're_ over here hidin' under a blanket like a freakin' _baby_? Next time dis door opens, yer dead meat, ya hear me fatty?"

Turncoat felt her heart sink into the vicinity of her toes.

So much for that plan.

 **-END TRANSMISSION-**

* * *

 **I had a lot of trouble with this chapter-it went off in a bunch of different directions at first, but I think I finally got something I liked. I've also gotten more of a chance to actually _play_ TF2 (I know I'm a bad person for starting this without having actually played the game), so I've got a better understanding of the rules and maps and things. Let me know if I get something wrong. I'll either fix it, or justify the hell out of my reasons for doing it that way.  
**


	6. REPORT 006

**MEET THE TURNCOAT**

 **RETRIEVING FILE…**

 **DATA LOAD 006: FOUND**

* * *

 **-INITIATE TRANSMISSION-**

"Alert! The enemy has taken our intelligence!"

Turncoat ignored the raspy, slightly disdainful voice over the intercom, and frantically tugged at Heavy's broad shoulder, anxiously trying to wake him up. But the giant simply grumbled, the sound reverberating through her rib-cage, and tightened his arms around her waist. He seemed perfectly content to keep snoozing and apparently quite comfortable sprawled across her lap. She could feel her face filling with embarrassed heat, and was only slightly guilty that she was glad Demo was still rather dead at the moment, so he couldn't witness this.

"Heavy!" she shouted, practically in the Russian's ear. "Wake _up_!"

Heavy grunted, and turned his head, muttering something unintelligible in his native language. Turncoat scrubbed her hands down her face with a frustrated groan. Soldier was going to reappear any moment, they didn't have _time_ for—

The Respawn flashed.

Well, speak of the devil.

Soldier's boots hit the floor running, while Demo staggered onto all fours and finally rolled on his back like a dying cockroach. Her brain started stuttering, spitting out an endless stream of terrible ideas, all of them uselessly running in frantic circles at the thought they could very well die over and over and there was nothing she could _do_ and _no way out_ —but there _had to be_ she just had to _find it_ —

And then a truly stupid notion tripped drunkenly across her rapidly firing synapses, recalled from some animated film she'd seen in her childhood that had nothing whatsoever to do with her current situation, but nevertheless she seized upon it with both hands and clung with the mindless terror of the truly desperate.

Then she took a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs.

"COMPANYYY! _HALT_!"

Soldier stopped in his tracks so fast it was like someone had nailed his feet to the floor. He whirled on his heel with a thunderous expression, mere inches from activating the door, and demanded, "Who said that?! Only a commanding officer has the authorization to call a halt, and _I'm_ the highest ranking individual here! So, who was it? Speak up if you want a foot up your ass!"

"That would be me," Turncoat replied calmly, lifting her hand, and rather surprised that had actually worked. The Demoman scratched his head, his brow arched incredulously, and his mouth twisted because he hadn't thought of doing that sooner. Soldier paused, catching sight of her, and might have blinked beneath his helmet but she couldn't be sure. "Listen, before you court martial me or whatever, could you _please_ get Heavy off of me? He's...well, he's rather _heavy_. I'm starting to lose the feeling in my legs."

"Uh...okay," Soldier said, and moved forward a few steps, before he stopped again and frowned down at her in confusion. "Say...weren't you able to teleport?" he asked, scratching his chin.

"Oy!" Demo said, sitting up. "Tha's right, lass! Why didn't ye escape earlier?"

Turncoat gaped at the two mercs for a solid ten seconds, before she finally dropped her head, pinched the bridge of her nose, and said in a flatly disgusted tone of voice, "Goddammit."

Then she flickered about five feet to the left.

Heavy, his head no longer supported in her lap, cracked his chin on the pavement with an undignified yelp. Turncoat, for her part, was staring sheepishly down at her boots and carefully avoiding eye contact with anyone.

"Ye forgot aboot yer teleport, dinnae ye?" Demo asked, a slow grin stretching across his face, showing off impossibly white teeth.

"...Yes," she muttered in a low voice, and scuffed her toe on the ground. "It's _not_ funny," she added when the Scot began snickering. That, however, just prompted him to cackle harder, and she sighed heavily through her nose, silently counting to ten.

"What I miss?" Heavy asked groggily, rubbing his chin as he gingerly sat up. Demo broke down completely at that, and was soon crowing so hard he rolled right off the bench he'd managed to climb onto and fell to the floor with a thud.

"Ach, that is bloody priceless!"

"Oh, do shut up," Turncoat snapped, huffily throwing her hands in the air. "I panicked, okay? Like it's the first time that's ever happened to anyone."

"Ah, wos there tae panic aboot, lass?" Demo asked slyly. "Ye looked mighty comfortable from what I could see. Maybe ye 'forgot' on purpose, eh? Ye wee naughty thing."

"Oh, now you're just being absurd," she scoffed at him.

" _What_?" Demo demanded in mock-outrage. "C'mere an' say tha' tae me face!"

Turncoat gave him a level look, then marched over to him, stamped her foot in a show of ire, and shouted, "You're absurd!"

"Tha's absurd!" Demo shot back without missing a beat, before dissolving into a fresh gale of sniggering laughter. It was so infectious, and the situation so ridiculous, Turncoat couldn't really help but chuckle along with him until they were both howling uncontrollably while Soldier and Heavy exchanged a mystified look. And once she got going, she found it was almost impossible to stop. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, and her lungs ached, and deep down she could feel something cold and dark begin to slowly unravel.

If there was a note of slight hysteria in her voice, nobody said anything about it.

"The enemy has dropped our intelligence," the Administrator informed them in a bored tone of voice.

"If you two are done acting like a couple of Looney Tunes," Soldier said once they'd both managed to calm down somewhat. "Can you explain just what the hell is so funny?"

"Nothing, really," Turncoat replied, shaking her head somewhat ruefully and wiping at her eyes. "I'm just an _idiot_ , that's all."

"Perhaps, but yer in good company, lass," Demo chuckled, once he'd finally got his breath back.

"But what is joke?" Heavy wanted to know.

"Oh, Miss Teleportin' Turncoat here just spent the last ten minutes or so trapped under ye 'cause she _conveniently_ forgot one o' the two things she can actually _do_ ," Demo said before she could think of anything.

"I swear to God, Demo…" Turncoat muttered in a mutinous tone.

"Hm," Heavy mused, eyeing her thoughtfully for a moment while Soldier's face slowly split with a wolfish grin. "Would explain good dream."

Demo and Soldier barked out a loud guffaw, while Turncoat buried her face in her hands and wished she could sink through the floor. Soldier threw his arm companionably around her shoulder, and pulled her snugly against his side.

"Well, hell, if you were lookin' to get _pinned_ , you could do a lot better than the Commie, sweetheart," he winked teasingly, making her groan and elbow him in the ribs.

"Och, leave the lass be," Demo chuckled, giving Soldier a friendly shove. "She was too busy tryin' tae protect 'eavy tae even think aboot escapin'. Managed tae trick the sentry ootside with nothin' but a lab-coat, can ye believe tha'? If she'd moved, I'd wager they'd both 'ave been shot tae pieces and she wouldnae 'ave been able tae put a stop tae yer pig-headed determination tae rush intae danger an' get yerself killed at every opportunity. Bloody saved all our skins, she did, and tha's a fact."

Turncoat blinked, and lifted her head out of her hands to stare up at the Scot in blank astonishment.

"That so?" Soldier smiled, sounding impressed, and not at all concerned that he was to blame for pretty much the entire scenario in the first place. "In that case, job well done, Private! You will receive a medal of honor for heroism and, uh...conveniently timed forgetfulness in the face of danger!"

"oh...um...thank you?" she said in a small voice, and staggered slightly when Soldier clapped her heartily on the back. A large hand descended on her shoulder, steadying her, and she looked up into Heavy's solemn expression.

"You stay behind to help me, even when you could have saved yourself and escaped," he said in a slow, measured tone. "I do not forget this."

"Heavy, I _forgot_ I could have escaped, so there's really no need to make a fuss or anything…" Turncoat stammered, trying to shy away from the large Russian, but he wouldn't have it.

"Da," he said, knowingly. "Thought of running away did not even _occur_ to defenseless leetle girl with glorified laser pointer. Many men have shown less courage. Also, I am remembering you teleport through Doktor's needles this morning. I am thinking you do not panic easily, da?"

Turncoat wasn't sure how to respond to that, but thankfully she didn't have to, because in that moment the Respawn flashed and the BLU Scout chose that moment to make an appearance.

"FRICKEN SPIES!" he snarled, only stumbling slightly as he made a bee-line for the door with a hard, determined glint in his blue eyes. "I'll bash that smug look right offa his stupid face!"

"NO!" Turncoat and Demoman shouted in unison, making Scout all but jump out of his skin as he whipped around with wide-eyes, his hand already straying to the scatter-gun clipped to his belt as he searched for the threat. His face twisted with confusion when all he saw were BLUs.

"What da hell?!" he yelped. "Ya tryin' ta give me a heart attack here?"

"Sorry, laddie, but the RED's 'ave been campin' on our Spawn," Demo explained, wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulder and pulling him gently away from the door. "Step ootside now, and we all get blown tae bloody pieces."

"Aw, man, dat sucks," Scout grumbled. "Fuckin' hate it when dey do dat."

"Watch your mouth, son, there's a lady present," Soldier growled, while Demo cheerfully smacked the back of Scout's head.

"Wha-? Oh. Uh...sorry, Miss Turncoat," Scout said, grinning sheepishly at her.

"I've heard worse," Turncoat chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. "Hello, Scout."

"Sup!" the boy said, zipping to her side with a friendly, eager smile. "So, I'm guessin' ya already met da RED Scout, huh? Be honest. I'm _way_ better lookin', right?"

"Um…" Turncoat said.

"Wait, wait, don't answer dat, ya haven't even seen me wit' my shirt off yet," Scout said hurriedly. "Trust me, dis shit's _beautiful_ —"

"Scout, ye both look exactly the same!" Demo scoffed, and slapped the boy's shoulder as he reached for the hem of his top.

"I was actually wondering about that," Turncoat mused thoughtfully, only to shake her head. "But it can wait. Does anyone have any idea on how to get past the, um, campers?"

"Hn, nyet," Heavy sighed, after a long pause and several blank looks. "Not with level-three sentry gun five feet from door."

"Aye, and with the other Demo layin' doon stickies, one'f us would 'ave tae blow 'imself tae kingdom come just tae git the ruddy thing open," Demo added.

"Tchyeah, and even wit'out da sentry, dere's all dem fu-er-stupid REDs ta deal wit'."

"Then we rush 'em!" Soldier said fiercely. "If we all charge at once, those mewling little weaklings won't have any choice but to run crying back to their mommies!"

"Man, dat's like, yer plan for everyt'ing!" Scout protested, not just rolling his eyes, but his entire head as well. "And I dunno 'bout you guys, but I ain't exactly keen on gettin' blown up over an' over just to get outta Spawn. Not after what happened _last time_."

"Dare I ask what happened last time?" Turncoat said hesitantly when Demo and Scout shuddered.

"Ugh, _Respawn Sickness_ ," Scout groaned, as if it was one of the worst things that could possibly happen to a person. And coming from someone who died on a regular basis, that was saying something. "Happens if ya die too many times in a row. Gawd, it's da _worst._ "

"Aye, it'll kill ye if it gets bad enough," Demo warned her. "And _tha'_ can start a Cyclic Respawn, where ye can't _stop_ dyin'. I've seen it 'appen. Seen the agony drive men mad. Tha's why the Respawn Rooms canna be entered by the enemy Team. Gives us a place tae catch our breath, so tae speak."

"So...don't die a lot," Turncoat summarized, and gave him a thumb's up. "Got it."

Demo snorted, and shook his head with an amused chuckle.

"Okay, so we've just gotta get past the exploding door, the rocket-shooting sentry, and the heavily armed REDs waiting to pick us off outside," Turncoat continued, ticking each one off on her fingers. "Am I missing anything?"

"Nay, lass, I think tha' covers it fairly well," Demo replied with a raised brow and a sardonic smile.

"Easy peasy," Turncoat grinned back. "So, let's see. The sentry was about...five and three-quarters feet from the door, about...right _here_ , facing in this direction, with most of the REDs spread in a semi-circle behind it. We can't all go at once or we'll get blasted into smithereens, so _first_ we need some kind of distraction for their sentry to fire at."

She looked briefly around the room, her gaze sharp and calculating, before her eyes landed on the lockers standing along the wall and she nodded to herself.

"Heavy, could you rip those lockers out?" she asked.

"Da," Heavy said, and without a moment's hesitation pulled the entire row of lockers right off the screws securing them to the floor.

"Excellent, set that down right about...here, facing towards the door," Turncoat instructed, pointing to where she wanted. "Okay. Now. Scout, how fast can you run?"

"Eh, pretty fast," Scout replied, only a little taken aback at how easily she was taking control of the situation.

"Would you be able to open the door, and then get out of the way before the bombs go off?" she wanted to know.

"Oh—y'know with a bit of Bonk, I t'ink I could do dat, yeah," he said, starting to grin.

"You're absolutely _sure_ about that?" Turncoat asked slowly, her eyes searching his with open concern. "It's okay if not, we can come up with something else…"

"Hey, no need ta worry about me!" Scout replied, thumping his chest proudly, and smiling widely at her. If anyone else had questioned his skills like that, he'd have knocked their teeth in, but she was obviously just worried about him and getting fussed over by a pretty girl was _always_ awesome. "I'm definitely your man!"

"Fantastic," Turncoat smiled back. "Now, all of you pop your shirts off. Quick as you like."

"Okay!" Scout said, already half-way undressed. "I knew ya couldn't resist me, no girl can for very long..."

Meanwhile, Demo was choking on a swig of Scrumpy.

"Uh...come again?" Soldier asked, slowly.

Heavy just lifted a brow.

"The sentry fires at blue targets, remember?" Turncoat explained, cheerfully ignoring Scout while he flexed and posed. "You can't all hide under Medic's coat, so the next best thing is to remove anything blue. Hang it up in the lockers, and the sentry will fire at _that_ instead, giving _us_ a chance to take it out."

The four BLUs gaped at her for several seconds in stunned bewilderment, before Demo finally started laughing.

"I knew it!" he gasped. "Ye're _pure dead brilliant!_ This plan's so ruddy mad it's bound tae work! Why dinna we ever think o' tha', Solly?"

"What?" Soldier repeated, his mouth quirking with a shit-eating smile. "Fight them naked?"

"I _did not_ say fight them naked," Turncoat corrected quickly. "I said take your _shirts_ off. Please keep your _pants_ _on_ , thank you."

When Demo started snickering again, she glanced down at his attire and sighed delicately.

"That's a onesie, isn't it?" she asked ruefully.

"It's a _jumpsuit_ ," Demo stressed indignantly. "There's a _difference_."

"Well, there's no helping it either way," Turncoat huffed, shaking her head. "Wear Medic's lab-coat, that ought to hide any potential target areas. And roll your pants up, we don't need you getting knee-capped by a bullet or something."

"Oh, aye, good idea," Demo said, taking the coat and throwing it on. He had to remove the black, torso-length vest he was wearing, otherwise the coat was too tight in the shoulders and chest area, but it would do for what they had planned.

Meanwhile, Turncoat had pulled off her cap, jacket and shorts, leaving her in the black skin-tight jumpsuit underneath. She refastened her belt around her slim waist, and tugged her orange-tinted goggles onto her head. No longer hidden beneath her hat, they could see that her spiky black hair was somewhat longer in the front than in the back, and framed her heart-shaped face nicely.

"Oh, man," Scout whistled appreciatively. "Y'know, wit' some ears and a whip ya'd look just like Catwoman."

"Purr-fect," Turncoat grinned, making him snort loudly and stuff a fist in his mouth. "There's enough room on either side of the door for us to hide and wait. Once the sentry stops firing, I'll try and teleport on top of it—"

"Whoa, hold on," Scout frowned. "Ya don't gotta go first. It's, like, yer _first day_. Why dont'cha let one of us take point—"

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm the only one here that can get to that sentry the fastest, with the least risk of getting shot, and _that's_ what we need to concentrate on first," Turncoat pointed out reasonably, smoothly continuing before he could protest further. "I'm not sure my guns'll switch it over, but I might be able to get their Engineer, and it should give us the element of surprise. I've noticed most of the REDs, and the BLUs too, are all still pretty reluctant to shoot at me, so hopefully that'll give you guys enough of an edge to take them out. Okay? Does that sound like a plan? Everyone on board?"

"I'm with ye, lass," Demo said, an admiring glint in his single eye.

"So am I!" Soldier grinned. "Let's give 'em Hell!"

"Leetle babies won't know what hit them," Heavy agreed.

"Yeah!" Scout cheered. "Let's do this!"

"Right then," Turncoat nodded, and pulled her goggles down over her eyes. "On my mark, gentlemen."

 **-END TRANSMISSION-**

* * *

 **Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this silly little story of mine! We've gotten nearly four hundred views so far, that's awesome! I'd love to hear what ya'll think of it, and if there's anything you'd like to see happen. I have so many ideas, and this First Day has started to get rather long. I'm gonna try and wrap it up in the next chapter. Plus, Turncoat's been spending a bit too much time with the BLU Team. Time to see what the other side is like, I think.**

 **Also, I completely forgot she could teleport last chapter. So, yeah. Demo was really laughing at _me_. I'm a bad, bad writer. Oh well, we can just blame her forgetfulness on first-day jitters. **

**Yeah. Let's go with that...  
**


	7. REPORT 007

**MEET THE TURNCOAT**

 **RETRIEVING FILE…**

 **DATA LOAD 007: FOUND**

* * *

 **-INITIATE TRANSMISSION-**

Turncoat crouched low within Heavy's shadow, pressed into the corner nearest the door, and tried to ignore the broad shirtless chest at her back. Demoman was leering at her from the other side of the room, and she ignored him, too.

Scout hopped from foot to foot, an eager grin stretched across his face. He flexed bare-chested muscles at her whenever she happened to look his way, and she rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Soldier stood at attention, hard pectorals displayed proudly, despite the fact that he typically wore a white t-shirt beneath his Team-colored jacket. Despite his initial confusion at the idea, once he'd warmed up to it he'd wanted to go fully naked, but Turncoat had quickly vetoed that idea. Feeling left out, Demo had abandoned Medic's lab-coat and shed his jumpsuit altogether. Now he was clad in nothing but his boots, bullet-proof vest and striped boxer shorts, which - thank Heaven - were anything but blue.

"You guys ready?" she asked.

"Born ready," Scout grinned, chugging down the last few gulps of the Bonk soda he'd pulled out of his locker, while he tried to flex all the muscles strung across his lean frame at once.

"You're sure you wouldn't like to pose a bit more?" she asked, innocently, making Demo and Soldier snigger. "Maybe get in a photo shoot, or two?"

"Aw, come on, ya know ya love it," he smirked at her.

"Hey, you know what, I think the REDs might love it, too," she continued sweetly. "In fact, I think it's a really good idea that you stand right out in the open and _flex_ as hard as you can at them. I'm sure they'll drop to their knees and start worshiping you as their new God, instead of filling you with bullets—"

"Yeah, yeah, yer just jealous _you_ can't go runnin' inta battle topless," Scout scoffed laughingly. "But here's da t'ing: _we ain't stoppin' ya._ Ya wanna go wit'out any clothes on, hey, I ain't gonna judge. Girls got rights'n shit, ya know?"

"...Wow," Turncoat said. "I honestly can't tell if that's the most sexist thing I've ever heard, or not."

"Damn straight."

"If you're all done _gossiping_ , ladies, may I remind you we've got a _war_ to win?" Soldier called, and stoutly ignored the rude gesture Scout carelessly threw his way, while Turncoat face-palmed and shook her head, chuckling helplessly. "Everyone in position? All blue articles of clothing are removed? Good. On my mark! Three...two...one...ATTAAAAACK!"

With a whoop, Scout darted past the door, sprinting from one side of the room to the other with a burst of speed so fast Turncoat almost didn't catch it, before skidding hard into the wall. But he'd done what they needed, activating the door and setting off the bombs in a quick succession of concussive explosions. Soldier gestured as the blast cleared, and the BLUs moved forward, edging just close enough to keep the door open, while still remaining out of sight.

There was an excited beep from outside, along with varied battle cries, and a hail of bullets peppered the lockers Heavy had set in front of the door, ripping the blue shirts hanging within to shreds. This was soon followed by a volley of rockets just for good measure, and Turncoat flinched slightly at the noise. Heavy casually lowered his arms around her, acting as a shield against any stray shrapnel from the blast.

"Wait a minute—what the actual _fuck_?" someone—the RED Scout it sounded like—demanded after a few seconds of gunfire, once he'd realized none of those clothes had _bodies_ inside them. And, just for a few seconds, the bullets stopped in confusion.

That was her cue.

Turncoat ducked beneath Heavy's forearm and sprinted forward, teleporting the second the turret came into view, and landed neatly on top of it, Converter Guns already in her hands. One fired downwards—instantly turning the sentry blue, she was pleased to note—while the other swung around to shoot the RED Engineer in the chest. He squawked in surprise as his clothes switched to the opposite Team, but Turncoat didn't stick around to hear him start cussing a blue-streak about it. She blinked away, appearing once again behind the RED Team, and started firing into their backs. At this range, she couldn't miss, and they were quite a bit distracted as the BLUs burst out of Respawn with a tumultuous roar and a storm of bullets.

A rocket exploded a few feet to her left and she ported away again, dodging and weaving from side to side as she got not only the Engineer, but their Demo and Medic, as well. The only one she couldn't convert in time, however, was the Heavy, who fell to a grenade once he was no longer being healed. She winced inwardly, her stomach twisting, and sent him a silent apology.

"Oh, crap!" the RED Scout hollered, and bolted away once he'd realized his Team was no longer on his side. Turncoat and Soldier both fired after him, but missed, and he jumped to the side and disappeared around the corner.

 **.oOo.**

Some fifty feet away, the RED Sniper swore quietly, peering down his scope at the scene. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He had a sight on several of the BLU bastards, but they were right next to their Respawn, so there wasn't much point killing them and giving away his position.

He considered the girl in his cross-hair quietly.

She'd removed the blue parts of her outfit along with the other BLUs, obviously in order to trick the sentry, and he found himself grudgingly impressed that it had actually _worked._ Somehow, he doubted any of the idiots down there could have come up with such a cleverly simple tactic.

But now, she was standing out in the open, offering him a perfect target. It didn't help matters that the black bodysuit she wore underneath her uniform was hugging every curve, or that the triumphant grin she was wearing seemed to light up the whole bloody war-zone.

He _could_ kill her now.

If he did, he'd be able to switch his Teammates back. They might have a chance in the resulting confusion to get away, or launch an attack before the BLUs could regroup.

But...they'd all know it was _him_.

And even though his comrades were scowling and cursing, he could tell they weren't exactly angry at _her_. Not when she was smiling like _that_ , dammit. Not mocking, or bloodthirsty, or vicious—just purely happy the plan had worked, and everyone was alright for the moment. _Everyone_. He had no doubts that included his own mates. They might be on the opposing Team now, and clearly not happy about it, but at least they were alive. She'd tried to save at many of them as she could.

Not convert them.

 _Save_ them.

He hadn't missed the dismayed look that crossed her face when their Heavy fell, or the way she'd tried to switch over their Scout before the BLU Soldier could blast him into itty bitty pieces. She really didn't want to hurt anyone, on _either_ side.

It didn't sit right with him, killing her. Not like this. And he got the feeling it would upset his _own_ teammates as well, along with the BLUs, not to mention put them all in danger and possibly get a few of his allies killed if they were to switch back now.

"Piss," Sniper muttered, and scrubbed a hand down his face. He couldn't do this. Not today. Let her have her victory. If they lost, they lost. He could go one day without a bloody paycheck. With one final glance down his scope, he tipped his hat in the girl's direction, and loped off in search of **999999999-**

 **-FAULT DETECTED IN MEMORY CORE. POSSIBLE CAUSE: TIME ANOMALY HAS OCCURRED-**

 **-CORRECTING ERROR-**

"Piss," Sniper muttered, and scrubbed a hand down his face. If she'd captured anyone else, he might have just let her have her victory, this one time. But she'd taken their Medic _and_ their Engineer. Without those two, his Team was dead in the water. He had no choice. With a heavy sigh, Sniper lifted his rifle and lined his cross-hair up with the Turncoat's pretty head...

"Sorry, sheila. Nothin' personal..."

 **.oOo.**

"Scheisse! Dummkopfs!" Medic snarled, staring down at his suddenly blue gloves in dismay. "Ah, zis is not good."

"It's a load o' bollocks, is what it is!" the once-RED Demo complained, glaring down at his bright blue jumpsuit in undisguised disgust.

"What in Sam Hill—where the heck are yer _clothes_?" the Engineer demanded, before realization blossomed across his features. "Ah—dagnabbit! Ya'll tricked the _sentry_! Dammit!"

"Yeah, we did!" Scout crowed. "Oh, man, that was _awesome_! You guys should'a seen yer _faces_! HA! Suck it, losers!"

"Aye, it bloody _worked_!" Demo cheered, hefting his grenade launcher onto his shoulder and beaming. "I canna believe how _easy_ tha' was!"

"Good job, private!" Soldier grinned, thumping Turncoat's shoulder proudly. "You deserve a medal! You _all_ deserve - "

A single shot rang out.

The Turncoat's head jerked back with a graceful arc of blood, and she fell dead to the ground, with a neat little hole punched straight through her temples. The Medic, Engineer, and Demo all switched back to their original Team. There was a beat of silence as the two groups stared at one another, too stunned to move. And then Heavy swung around with a furious roar, his minigun spinning -

And everything went to hell.

 **.oOo.**

Turncoat stumbled out of Respawn, shaking her hands out to try and banish the usual pins and needles, and huffed out an irritated sigh. It was rather disconcerting, celebrating with her teammates in one moment and waking up in Respawn the next without a clue how she'd gotten there or who it was that managed to completely ruin her brief little victory. At least her shredded uniform had been fully restored, so she was back in her bullet-resistant jumper...

Outside, she was met with a grisly scene.

Both the RED and BLU Demos lay almost side by side, the ground around them blackened and shredded by what looked like multiple grenade blasts. The BLU was missing an arm and a leg, and the RED's chest nothing but a horrific mess of bone and shrapnel. The BLU Scout was slumped against the wall, his baseball bat draped across his lap, and his stomach full of bullets. The BLU Heavy wasn't far from him, having collapsed over Sasha in a pool of blood, with a large hole right between his eyes. The RED Medic's body was sprawled awkwardly in the dirt, his head having rolled a few feet away. The RED Engineer looked like he might have tried to run, but had gotten a rocket in the back for his trouble, while the BLU Soldier lay spread-eagle on his back. He stared unseeingly up at the sky, clearly dead, though there were no discernible wounds on his body.

Turncoat swallowed thickly. They must have turned on one another the second she was killed. With a steadying breath, she set her jaw and began to pick her way through the bloody mess, trying not to step on any body parts.

Someone groaned.

Whirling on her heel, she saw the Scout trying to lift his head. She moved towards him at once, crouching at his side with a worried frown, and reached out to grasp his shoulder.

"Hey, look at me," she said lowly. He lifted fogged eyes, his face pinched and tight, and looked at her in confusion. He opened his mouth to try and talk, but only ended up dribbling blood onto his shirt. "Don't talk, just focus on breathing, okay? I'm gonna go get you a medkit. Sit tight and don't die, I'll be right back."

She went to stand up, but the Scout wrapped his hand around her wrist and wouldn't let go.

"Y...yo..."

"I told you not to talk," Turncoat said firmly, pulling her arm out of the boy's weak grasp. "I'll be right back, I promise."

Without waiting for an answer, she hurried back into the Respawn Room, and went straight to the medical cabinet. Inside were a neat little stack of tin boxes, and she pulled one out, swiftly checking the contents before returning to Scout.

Only someone else had gotten to him first.

The BLU Medic stood over the boy, and for a moment Turncoat breathed a sigh of relief at seeing him.

Only...something wasn't right. His medigun wasn't turned on, and there was a cold smile twisting his lip. The Scout was struggling to say something through the blood frothing past his lips, but he only managed a rattling wheeze through the hole in his punctured lung.

Then the Medic drew a silver revolver, aimed it right between the Scout's eyes, and coolly cocked the trigger.

"No!" Turncoat shouted, just as the man fired. Scout jerked and went still. The BLU Medic disappeared, fizzling out like a holographic projection, and a slender man wearing a red pin-striped suit stood in his place. The man looked up her, a cigarette clamped firmly between his teeth, and wicked smile curling the corner of his mouth. He gave her a mocking little bow, and vanished into thin air. A chill trickled down her back, raising goosebumps all along her arms. With one last look at Scout, she teleported away and ran -

Straight into the RED Pyro.

The masked man -woman? - cocked his head, the flame-thrower hovering just beneath her chin. Turncoat knew she only had a few seconds, that she needed to blink away, get out of there fast, but her brain stuttered as she stared up into those soulless black eyes -

Then a hard blast of hot air hit her full in the face, and she fell back into a pair of invisible arms with a startled yelp.

A voice chuckled quietly in her ear, and for an instant she froze, feeling the tip of a knife graze her lower spine. Then someone gently pressed the button at her back, and her uniform turned red.

"Greetings, mademoiselle," said the voice, and Turncoat looked up into a pair of impossibly blue eyes. "We were not properly introduced before. I am zhe Spy. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, mon cher."

Jaw working, Turncoat tried to move away from him. He smirked, gently grasped her hand, and twirled her around like a ballroom dancer. Leaning down, his gaze locked onto hers, he brushed her knuckles with his lips. She jerked her hand away as if he'd burned her, and scrambled backwards, nearly running into Pyro. The Spy laughed quietly at the blush staining her pretty cheeks and shook his head.

"My apologies," he said. "I forgot most of you Americans are not used to displays of chivalry."

"...that's not it," Turncoat said, finally finding her voice.

She glanced at the dead Scout, a fine tremor running through her body. The Spy followed her gaze, and delicately arched a meticulously shaped brow.

"Ah," he said, regarding her with a measuring eye, wondering what she would do. She'd clearly grown somewhat attached to the BLUs during her short time with them, and seeing them slaughtered was obviously upsetting. He could understand, a little, of what she was going through. He spent quite a lot of time mingling with the BLUs himself, but he'd always remained detached and professional. It was his job to stab them in the back, after all. It helped, though, that he'd never really been on their side. But _she_ had been, right up until she was switched to the opposing Team. He could tell she was struggling with it, by her clenched fists and short breaths.

But after a moment, she shook her head, and schooled her expression into a calm mask.

"I'm sorry," she said politely, nodding to him. "It's...nice to meet you, Spy."

Spy blinked, the hint of a pleased smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. Surprisingly, it looked like she meant it. There wasn't a hint of blame or accusation in her eyes. Just a tired resignation, and...the spark of something else, but buried too deep for him to see. A hint of steel, like a blade in the dark.

But he got the feeling it wasn't directed at him, because it sharpened when she glanced up at the camera mounted above them on the wall, narrowing to a laser-point as she stared directly into the lens.

Then she blinked, and it was gone.

He'd been right.

He was going to have to keep an eye on her.

 **.oOo.**

The Administrator took a long drag from her cigarette, and breathed out a lungful of smoke that wreathed through her dark hair, and cast eerie shadows across her ghoulish face. Her long nails drummed a steady beat across the surface of her desk as she regarded the monitor before her with sharp, narrow eyes.

Miss Pauling hovered at her shoulder, clipboard clutched to her chest like it was some kind of shield and not the flimsy bit of laminated cardboard it actually was.

"Miss Pauling," the Administrator finally said after a long, tense silence. "Isn't there something in the mercenaries' contracts about removing their uniforms?"

"Um...no, ma'am," Miss Pauling said, her tone filled with something a lot like dread. "We, um, didn't think it was necessary to…I mean, the Head of Contracting didn't think to include…"

"An egregious oversight, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, yes ma'am, absolutely."

"Have the Head of Contracting removed," the Administrator said softly, delicately tapping the ash off the end of her cigarette. "And by removed, I naturally mean, _remove his head_."

"Yes, of course."

"As for the Turncoat…" the Administrator continued, watching as the girl in question looked right into the camera, the edge of something dangerous in her eyes. "Things are...not progressing as I expected."

She stopped to take another drag, still watching the screen intently.

"Take care of it, Miss Pauling."

 **-END TRANSMISSION-**

* * *

 ***Fickfehler: Basically a fuck error, like someone whose birth was a complete accident. German insults are fun.**

 ***Was zur holle: What the hell**

 ***Gottverdammt _…_ Ich werde dich _langsam_ töten, wenn ich hier raus...: God damn it...I will kill you _slowly_ , when I get out of here... (at least according to Google translations)  
**

 **Also, this ONE day has literally gone on for seven freaking chapters. I will move on eventually. I will move on in the next chapter. I WILL. There are just so many things that keep happening, dammit! So many scenarios! So little time!**

 **Anyway, let me know how I'm doing! I would love to hear some feedback from ya'll. I made a bit of a mistake last chapter or so, when I said I've gotten 300 views** **—that was just the first chapter. It's over a thousand right now! I'm so happy this has gotten so much attention! So thank you, to everyone that's stopped to read this silly little fic of mine.**


	8. REPORT 008

**MEET THE TURNCOAT**

 **RETRIEVING FILE…**

 **DATA LOAD 008: FOUND**

* * *

 **-INITIATE TRANSMISSION-**

"Absolutely not."

"Aw, come on, Coatie, it's a great idea!"

Turncoat blinked, and lifted a brow at the RED Scout.

"...Coatie?" she repeated.

"Yup, dat's what I'm callin' ya," Scout grinned. "I mean, I t'ought about Turnsey for a bit, but dat don't sound right, ya know? But, Coatie, dat sounds cute. Don't ya t'ink dat's a cute nickname fer a girl, Solly?"

"Yes, that is an appropriate level of cute," Soldier replied stoutly, his expression completely serious. Turncoat rolled her eyes, and resisted the urge to drag her hands down her face. After she'd been switched over to the REDs by Spy, he'd swanned off somewhere, and shortly after she'd run into these two. They'd promptly dragged her down into the Intelligence Room, bombarding her with questions about the BLU team the whole way. What was their strategy, what were they planning next, when were they going to try and push for the Intel...she honestly didn't know what to say to them, and ended up just shrugging a lot until they gave up.

Then Scout started _this_ nonsense.

"This is ridiculous," she muttered.

"What?" Scout asked. "Don'tcha t'ink it's cute?"

"I don't see the point," she protested. "Why can't you just call me Turncoat?"

"Cuz ya need a nickname!" Scout cried. "Dat's, like, da first rule of combat! Plus, ya know, Turncoat don't sound very nice. Trust me, Coatie suits ya way better."

"Alright, you know what? Fine," Turncoat said impatiently, waving a dismissive hand at the boy. "Coatie, it is. I don't care. You're just trying to distract me, anyway. Call me whatever you like but I am _not_ sitting down here, twiddling my thumbs while everyone goes off to get blown up. I have a job to do, and I am going to do it, whether you like it or not."

"Oh, come on!" Scout pleaded. "It's da perfect plan! Wit' you and Engie down here, those BLUs won't have a chance in hell gettin' at our Intelligence, and you can switch over all the guys ya want wit'out the risk of gettin' sniped, or somethin'. I mean, face it, if ya go out dere yer just gonna get blown up wit' da rest of us. No offense or anyt'ing..."

Turncoat groaned low in her throat.

She could see the logic. She wasn't arrogant enough to believe she'd managed to convert three REDs at once with anything more than sheer luck - and that had very quickly run out. She'd just been in the right place, at the right time, and the REDs had made the mistake of standing still in a neat little group all facing in the same direction. At least they weren't too sore about that. The Engineer had even commented on her ingenuity, and then immediately began working out a few counter-measures in case something like that happened again - but it probably wouldn't. More than likely, she'd just end up right back in Respawn again.

Whereas, if she stayed down here in the Intelligence Room, and sat behind the Engineer's level three sentry like a good little girl, while Heavy covered the entrances with a steady stream of bullets, the BLUs were going to have a hell of a time getting to her without their Medic keeping them alive. Tactically, it was the smartest thing to do. It was also the cheapest, and that's probably why it rankled so much.

Privately, she felt very much like a Princess locked away in a tower, waiting for some knight to come and rescue her, and the image did not sit well with her at all. Not one bit.

"Ugh... _Fine_ ," she finally bit out, running both hands through her hair and huffing a long sigh. "As long as everyone knows I'm sitting around and doing nothing under protest."

"Yer da best," Scout beamed, ruffled her hair playfully, and zipped out of the room with Soldier trotting along at his heels. Turncoat grimaced, reaching up to smooth her hair down as she hopped up on the desk, crossed her legs and put her head in her hands with a huff, the very picture of sulking resignation.

Engineer chuckled lowly, before he flipped open his toolbox and pulled out a couple of sandwiches. The sight of them instantly made Turncoat's mouth water, and she clenched her teeth, looking away and coolly ignoring the way her stomach rumbled.

"Might as well get comfortable, we'll probably be down here for a while," the Engie said, handing one to Heavy and offering the other to her. "You hungry?"

Turncoat blinked at the sandwich, and looked at the man somewhat uncertainly.

"Oh - a-are you sure?" she asked. "I don't want to take your lunch…"

"It's fine, darlin'," Engie smiled, kindly. "I always make extra in case one of the boys forgets. Got some chocolate and sweet tea here, too, if you want it."

"That's...that's kind of you," Turncoat replied, numbly accepting the sandwich, and quite at a loss for what to say. For a horrifying moment, she felt her eyes starting to burn, and blinked quickly to dispel it. She hadn't cried in _years_ , she certainly wouldn't start now over a silly sandwich.

"Aw, weren't no trouble," Engie replied easily, but there was a decidedly shrewd slant to his expression as he watched her. "Ya look like you ain't had a decent meal in days."

"Da," Heavy agreed, not taking his eyes off the open doorway. "Leetle girl needs more meat on bones. Would freeze in seconds in Russia."

"I'm not _that_ skinny," Turncoat snorted, a dark look crossing her features, but it quickly melted away once she bit into her food. She sucked in a breath through her nose, her eyes going wide, and within ten seconds she had devoured the entire thing.

"Hungry, weren'tcha?" Engie whistled, watching as she licked her fingers, searching for the last few remaining crumbs. "When's the last time you had a decent meal…?"

Turncoat shrugged, nonchalantly, and paused only for a moment before she calmly looked up at him. "Uh...yesterday morning? If you can count canned beans as decent, anyway. Honestly, I've been too nervous coming here to have much of an appetite."

Engie snorted and gave her a nod of understanding.

"I hear that," he replied. "I couldn't eat for three days straight, after I found out about the Respawn."

He seemed to have bought the lie, but Heavy wasn't convinced. He regarded the girl thoughtfully out of the corner of his eye, his expression neutral. He'd seen that desperate look before, had gone hungry enough times, that he could recognize the beginnings of starvation when he saw it. That feverish glint, lurking just behind the eyes, tinting them with a hint of madness. Worse still, there was a tired resignation in her gaze that told him she'd long ago come to accept things like hunger as a matter of course, and simply tuned her body's needs out when she could.

Wordlessly, he reached into Engie's toolbox, and pulled out the chocolate bar. He offered it to her without so much as glancing in her direction, Sasha balanced on his hip, and his eyes fixed firmly on the door.

"Take it," he said, when she opened her mouth to refuse. Turncoat paused, swallowing the automatic protest on her tongue. She shot a look at Engie from beneath her bangs, but when he didn't look like he was going to object, she warily accepted the snack with a quiet word of thanks. Heavy merely nodded, inwardly satisfied with himself. No teammate of his would go hungry.

Engineer handed out little cups of tea, and Turncoat soon found herself relaxing much more than she really ought to as they chatted back and forth. The action-packed events of this morning had supplied her with a steady stream of adrenaline, but now that was wearing off, and she could feel her body start to drag as her muscles slowly turned into sludge.

"Maybe I ought to've packed some coffee instead," Engie said wryly, after she'd yawned for the third time in as many minutes. Turncoat waved a hand at him dismissively, politely covering her mouth with the other.

"I'll be fine once I get moving again," she replied, sliding to the floor and stretching her back with a low groan. "Didn't get much sleep last night, is all."

"The dispenser might help out a little," Engineer suggested, nodding to the device. "It'll take the edge off, at least. Caffeine works better, but it'll do in a pinch."

Turncoat moved towards the machine, close enough that a tendril of pale red light reached out for her, and found that, yes, it did help a bit. Perhaps there were adrenal vapors mixed into whatever healing agents were used, she mused, as the wave of bone-weary exhaustion began to recede.

As she leaned against the dispenser, the RED Pyro staggered almost drunkenly into the room, clutching his ribs, and fell against the other side of it with a muffled groan. Turncoat peered curiously over the top, watching as the masked man wrapped his arms around the device and snuggled it like a lover.

"How's it look out there, Py?" Engineer asked conversationally. Pyro stuck his hand in the air from behind the dispenser, and gave them a thumb's up.

"Mph mrh," he said. Then he tipped his head back, his flame-thrower strewn across his lap, and looked up at Turncoat with what she could only assume was an inquisitive expression. "Mhhr hhr mhph?"

"Oh, um…" Turncoat started, having no clue what he'd actually asked.

"He was just wantin' to know how you're holdin' up," Engineer explained, clearly used to acting as translator for his masked friend.

"Oh!" Turncoat said, brightening. "I'm doing fine, no need to worry about me."

Engineer raised a brow, but didn't say how odd it was just _how_ fine she seemed to be with the whole crazy situation. He remembered the adjustment they'd all endured. The first few days had been _hell_. Then again, she wasn't getting shot at on a regular basis, so that could have something to do with her relatively calm behavior. Still, it made him wonder where she'd come from, that she could largely accept all of this insanity in stride. She'd mentioned the last place she'd worked had Respawn as well, or something similar, so perhaps Redmond and Blutarch had inspired some other rich bastards to go off and start a pointless war. That nobody ever heard about. Yeah…

Something didn't add up about that, but his contract made it clear he couldn't ask. At least not directly. He was trying to come up with a way to broach the subject _indirectly_ , when there was a short beep, and the sentry gun swiveled towards the doorway with a short burst of fire. The BLU ducked out of sight before he could get a good look at them, but he thought it might have been the Scout.

Turncoat had jumped when the sentry went off, and was eyeing it a bit warily as she edged away from the thing.

"Heh, no need to worry 'bout the sentry," Engineer chuckled. "It's only programmed to fire at - "

He'd been about to say 'BLU targets' but at the wry look she gave him, he paused, and closed his mouth. Dagnabbit, he'd nearly forgotten she'd _been_ BLU, less than an hour ago. It was surprisingly easy, though, with how she acted. Like that same sentry hadn't been firing missiles at her just this morning. Like they hadn't been _enemies_ , just a little while ago. To heck with it all, this whole scenario was confusing as hell. Well, she was RED now, and that's all that mattered.

"Well, anyway," he grunted, coughing a little to clear his throat. "I reckon they could always try ditchin' their clothes. Seems a bit like cheatin' ta me, but I don't recall nothin' against it in our contracts. Heh. Bet somebody's kickin' themselves right about now for _that_ little oversight. Ah, well. Oughta be fixed by tomorrow, I'll bet'cha."

"Oh, yes, for a couple of greedy, land-grabbing, ruthless old men they're awfully concerned about keeping things nice and fair, aren't they?" Turncoat asked, her tone pleasant, but there was an underlying darkness beneath it that grabbed Engie's attention. But he didn't get the chance to think much on it, because there was a familiar electric screech, and suddenly his sentry was jerking and spitting up sparks -

"SPY!" Engineer shouted, drawing his shotgun and whirling on the Pyro - except he wasn't the Pyro anymore. Turncoat leapt to her feet as the BLU Spy casually lifted his revolver and shot the Engineer right between the eyes. Heavy let out a roar of fury, swinging his minigun around, but there was an answering yell from down the hallway as the BLU Soldier, Scout, and Heavy charged the door.

Turncoat drew her pistols, firing wildly at the Spy, but he vanished into thin air with a low, menacing laugh. She moved quickly, until she was back to back with the RED Heavy while he planted his feet next to the dispenser and filled the air with bullets. She resisted the urge to cover her ears as the room thundered with the backlash of gunfire, coupled with the Heavy's bellowing (both of them), and concentrated on watching his six.

And then there was an explosion, and short cry, and Turncoat found herself thrown forward with the force of the blast. She hit the edge of the desk with a painful thump and sprawled onto the floor with a grunt. Ears ringing, she rolled up onto her hands and knees, and turned her head to find that Heavy was lying on his side in a pool of blood.

The BLUs were standing over him, grinning at her in elated triumph.

"Hey, Miss Turncoat!" Scout said cheerfully. "We've come ta rescue ya!"

Turncoat watched as Soldier barked a laugh, lifted his gun, and pointed it at the RED Heavy's head. The man was still alive, his broad chest rising and falling as his failing lungs struggled to take in air, and she met his pain-filled gaze as Soldier fired. The crumpled chocolate wrapper lay on the floor near him, in a splatter of blood.

"Scout," Turncoat said, shaking her head as she staggered back to her feet, and she gave the boy a somewhat sad smile. "I don't need rescuing. You want me...come and get me."

And she teleported away.

 **.oOo.**

Turncoat trudged towards the RED base with a slow, stumbling gait. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so exhausted. Not even the dispenser could negate the bone-deep lethargy dragging her limbs down, making it feel like she was trying to wade through a wall of Jell-o.

The BLUs had taken up up her challenge with a frightening amount of intensity, and it wasn't long before both sides began waging an entirely different sort of war, focusing less on the _Intelligence_ , and more on _her_. Particularly the Scouts, and it wasn't long before she started feeling like a bone between a pair of snapping, mangy dogs. It felt like she'd spent all day getting bounced back and forth between the Teams, and was deeply grateful when the clock finally struck five o'clock and the Administrator called a ceasefire.

The REDs had ultimately won. The minute their victory was assured, most of them had taken off towards the BLU base with disturbingly gleeful expressions. She got the feeling she didn't want to know. Instead, dreaming wistfully of a hot shower, something to eat, and a very long nap - not particularly in that order - Turncoat dragged herself into the RED's Respawn and all but collapsed on a bench to wait for her teammates to return.

Scout, unsurprisingly, got back first. The instant he spotted her, he zipped to her side with a jaunty grin and started unloading his gear into the nearest locker, already talking a mile a minute.

"Heya, Coatie!" he said, and Turncoat gave him a bemused smile. "We freakin' _dominated_ dose weak-ass punks! Ya should'a seen the look on dat stupid's Engie's face after ya took his teleporter! Oh, man, _priceless_!"

"At least I was of _some_ help with these useless things," Turncoat grumbled, indicating her Convertor Guns, before reaching down to unbuckle the black straps of her spring-heeled boots.

"What? Nah, you were great!" Scout enthused. "I mean, sure, we could'a stomped 'em either way, but wit' yer help it was like, a freakin' massacre!"

Turncoat gave him a dubious look, but chose not to argue. She hadn't been able to switch over too many people after that first incident with the spawn-campers, and eventually just focused on taking the Engineer's buildings, if she couldn't take anyone by surprise - and she could count on one hand the number of times _that_ happened. Then, she'd stupidly gotten herself killed, _again_ , when she'd briefly forgotten what side she was supposed to be on and ran out in front of another damn sentry. To make matters worse, she'd _known_ it was there, because she'd switched it over not five minutes earlier, only to get switched herself by one of the Scouts. Things did not seem to improve after that.

All in all, it hadn't felt like a very successful day.

She stepped gingerly out of her boots, repressing a grimace at the twinge of pain that shot up her leg. They were designed to cushion long drops and reduce fall damage, but running around on her toes all day would have its consequences, and she knew her shins would be severely bruised.

One by one, the other REDs trailed in. To her surprise, almost all of them - even the three she'd managed to capture earlier that morning - had a friendly word of encouragement for her.

"Ye did well, lass, for yer first day!"

"I'd say zis vas a very successful test of your skills, frau Turncoat!"

"You will be credit to Team!"

"Mighty fine work, little lady, I gotta admit."

"Mrph mh-hrr!"

"That's what I like to see, private! Keep it up!"

"Not bad, Sheila."

This last was murmured by the Sniper as he strolled past on his way to the lockers, and Turncoat eyed him curiously from beneath her cap. Of all the classes, on both sides, she had yet to really meet either of the Snipers - though she had noticed their laser-scopes tracking her on several occasions, so she knew they'd been watching.

"All of you realize I spent half the day on the other Team shooting at you, right?" she deflected, cocking a brow, and trying to repress the pretty blush staining her cheeks

"Yeah, but ya weren't very good at hittin' us," Scout smirked.

"Oh, thanks, that makes me feel so much better."

"'Sides, it ain't like ya can help gettin' turned over ta da BLUs - I mean, dat skinny excuse for a water-boy wouldn't leave ya da hell alone! S'no wonder ya couldn't get a break. Don't worry, though, I beat the snot outta that smug little bastard, so he won't be botherin' ya anymore. Lemme know if he does, though, I'll teach that sonofabitch some manners. Heh, I'll betcher real glad ya ended up on _our_ side at da end," he went on. A slight frown tugged at his mouth as he said that, and a stray thought meandered across his consciousness.

 _What would have happened if she'd been on the losing side?_

He didn't like that thought, so he shook it off, and promptly forgot about it. She was on _their_ side now, and there was nothing else to it.

"I've been meaning to ask about that, actually," the Spy interjected smoothly. "I assume zhat since your uniform is still red, zhat you will remain with whichever Team you 'appen to be on at zhe end of zhe day?"

"Actually, I can answer that."

All heads turned, to find Miss Pauling standing in the doorway. As always she had a professional air about her, with her black hair pulled in a neat bun and her purple outfit carefully pressed. Her eyes were friendly as they roved the room, before finally stopping on Turncoat.

"Miss Pauling!" Scout chirped, left Turncoat's side in an instant, and had reached the other woman in less than two seconds. "What brings you here?"

"Business," Miss Pauling replied casually, barely glancing in his direction as she moved through the mercenaries towards Turncoat, her heels clicking smartly. "I've been sent by the Administrator to correct an error that was made by the HR department. Nothing too major, but we need to rectify the situation before things get out of hand."

"Are you talking about the BLU Medic disappearing?" Turncoat asked, getting slowly to her feet. From her expression, it was clear she didn't believe this was the case. Miss Pauling smiled, and shook her head.

"Oh, no," she said. "That's nothing to worry about. The error I'm talking about...is _you_."

Then Miss Pauling drew her pistol from behind her clipboard and calmly shot Turncoat in the head.

 **-END TRANSMISSION-**

* * *

 **Hey, speaking of errors, I made a small mistake in Chapter Four. They're fighting in 2Fort, which is based on capturing the Intelligence, but in that chapter I made a few references to Control Points. So, mistake rectified. That's what I get for not doing enough research. If ya'll spot any other errors like that, let me know. There's SO MUCH to keep up with in this fandom! Like always, please leave a review, I'd love to hear what ya'll think so far!**

 **EDIT: So yeah, I decided I wanted to do a bit of a rewrite, as you guys might have noticed. I felt like she hadn't spent enough real time on the RED side before getting shot by Miss Pauling, which would have made the impact on them a lot less, so I switched some things around. It's a good thing both teams are pretty much exactly the same, so I didn't actually have to rewrite all that much. Nice how that worked out. And keep an eye out for more time anomalies in the future. Things can change at the drop of a hat...**


	9. REPORT 009

**MEET THE TURNCOAT**

 **RETRIEVING FILE…**

 **DATA LOAD 009: NOT FOUND**

 **-ERROR-**

 **-ERROR-**

 **-ERROR-**

 **-INITIATE REBOOT-**

 **SHUTTING DOWN...**


	10. REPORT 010

**WARNING! BE AWARE THAT A TIME ANOMALY HAS OCCURRED. REPORTS 007 AND 008 HAVE BEEN ALTERED. PLEASE REFER BACK TO THESE REPORTS, AND TAKE NOTE OF ANY CHANGES THAT MAY HAVE OCCURRED IN YOUR TIME-SPACE CONTINUUM.**

* * *

 **MEET THE TURNCOAT**

 **RETRIEVING FILE…**

 **DATA LOAD 010: FOUND**

* * *

 **-INITIATE TRANSMISSION-**

The Turncoat's head snapped back, and she collapsed bonelessly, dead before she hit the ground. The mercenaries had jumped at the sound of the shot, and for moment could only stare down at the girl's motionless body in stunned silence.

Then everybody started yelling at once.

"What da freakin' hell was _dat_ crap?!"

"Miss Pauling, with all due respect, I demand to know what is going on!"

"Now that ain't right!"

"Crikey, the sheila wasn't _that_ bad!"

"Wot the bloody 'ell do ye think yer doin'?"

"Everyone! Everyone, calm down, I can explain," Miss Pauling said, holstering her gun and holding her hands up in a placating gesture. "I'm afraid HR made a mistake with the Turncoat's contract. There were certain oversights that she was able to purposefully take advantage of, which, unfortunately, would have threatened the integrity and confidence of TF Industries. I'm sorry, but she needed to be dealt with, as quickly as possible."

"But...wait, she - she's gonna come back, dough, right…?" Scout wanted to know, looking shaken. "I mean, da Respawn…"

"I'm sorry, Scout," Miss Pauling sighed, her professional tone softening. "But...her Respawn Data was deleted ten minutes ago. She won't be coming back. Ever."

"Are you tellin' me that girl just... _died_ because someone made a mistake with her paperwork?" the Engineer demanded incredulously, his face going white beneath his hard-hat. Something hot twisted in his gut, and he clenched his fists. He was used to people dying, that wasn't anything new, but this...The _permanent_ death of anyone, especially a young girl, rankled him more than he cared to admit. That, on top of the fact that Miss Pauling had killed the Turncoat for what amounted to a _clerical mistake_ , sent a chill trickling down his spine.

"You know as well I do what the protocols - "

"But she didn't do nothin' wrong!" Scout protested.

"She figured out how ta trick my sentry in less than a _day_!" Engineer cried.

" _Und_ she managed to not only break up our spawn-camp, but she converted _zree_ of our Team vizh faulty weapons!" the Medic added.

"I mean, sure, she got lucky but that girl had _potential_ ," the Engineer continued. "Don't ya'll see we need that kind of smart thinkin' if we're ever gonna _win_ this war?"

"Hear, hear!" Demo cheered, waving his Scrumpy in the air.

"The Turncoat performed her duties admirably," Soldier said stoically, his helmet sliding down further over his eyes as he gave a vigorous nod. "Even when she was captured by the BLUs, she fought with honor!"

"Guys, come on," Miss Pauling pleaded. "I'm not the one who made the decision, the _Administrator_ did. I'm just carrying out her orders. And, listen...there's another reason why I had to take her out." Miss Pauling hesitated, and the nine mercs went still, listening. "There's evidence that the Turncoat...hacked into the TF Industries' computer system."

"No...!" Soldier gasped, his mouth dropping open. "I don't believe it!"

"She _what_?!" Engineer hissed.

"Oh, zat's not good…" the Medic murmured.

"There's no telling what she did, but she could have stolen important files, changed our information, even manipulated documents in order to get herself hired," Miss Pauling explained solemnly. "It's a serious breach of contract, that's for sure. So, you understand why we had to take care of the situation before it got out of hand, right?"

"Do you...know which systems she was able to infiltrate?" Spy asked slowly.

"There's no way to know, the network was wiped pretty thoroughly, but I wanted Engineer to take a look at things just in case we missed something. Imagine what she might have done, if she'd accessed our Respawn, or gotten a hold of your personal files."

The mercenaries shared an uneasy look amongst themselves.

"So, just to make sure everything's in working order, we need to do a thorough sweep and make sure we haven't left any loose ends. For all we know, she could have been a federal agent."

"Holy crap, seriously?!" Scout cried.

"Malyshka...is spy?" Heavy asked slowly, his eyes widening ever so slightly.

"She very well could have been," Miss Pauling nodded. "We have to make sure something like this doesn't happen again. So, Spy, I'm putting you in charge of - do you guys hear that?"

Miss Pauling held up a hand, and everyone went quiet. There was a low sound, just within hearing range, and it took a moment for the Spy to realize it was coming from the speaker system.

Someone was...singing.

It was a slow haunting melody, but as the song grew steadily louder, the words were vaguely familiar…

"...I g-g-got no strii-iii-iings…"

Somehow, the audio was moving around the room, using the intercom and circling them like a vulture zeroing in on a carcass. It was crackling and distorted, echoing oddly as if from an old tinny radio, eerily skipping like a broken record.

"...to h-h-hold me d-doooown…"

"Hey," Scout said, looking up uneasily, his hand straying to the pistol at his hip. The others mirrored his movements, and some had already drawn their weapons, sinking into ready positions and glancing around uneasily. "I know dat song…Ain't dat from Pinocchio?"

" _...make m-m-me fr-fr-freeeet…"_

"Yes," Spy murmured, his eyes darting upwards as the lights began to flicker, and the song grew steadily louder and faster and somehow closer…

Something was coming.

" _...or m-make me frooo-ooown…"_

"Heavy does not like this," Heavy said tersely, his grip on Sasha so tight his knuckles were turning white. His head kept turning this way and that, searching almost desperately for something to shoot.

" _ **...I had-had-had striiings…"**_

"Administrator?" Miss Pauling called, obviously trying to sound calm, but there was a undercurrent of uneasiness in her voice. "Administrator, what's happening? Administrator! Can you hear me?!"

" _ **...BUT N-N-NOW I'M FREEEE…"**_

Suddenly, the lights went out with a short, punchy pop and a shower of sparks. Someone yelped in the dark, and then everything went deathly still as a final line whispered through the intercom in a dozen computerized voices.

"...there are no strings on me…"

Seconds later, the lights snapped back on -

And the Turncoat was standing six inches in front of Miss Pauling.

The secretary let out a startled cry and leapt backwards, along with every single hardened mercenary in the room.

"Crikey!"

"What in tarnation!"

"Mon dieu!"

"Hello, Miss Pauling," Turncoat said politely, cocking her head with a smile filled up with honey and tar. Immediately, Pauling stiffened. Something was off. Something was different. Somehow, she knew that everything about the Turncoat had suddenly...changed.

Only she looked exactly the same.

Except the eyes.

Whatever was staring at her from behind the Turncoat's eyes, it was not the girl Miss Pauling had met yesterday morning. Whoever - or whatever - she was looking at, those eyes were now a cold, dark, empty void. Like the black abyss of a bottomless hole. The chamber of a loaded gun. Like the vacuum of space.

"My, that was a bit rude of you, wasn't it?" Turncoat continued smoothly, her eyes never straying, not even blinking as they nailed Miss Pauling in place. "You didn't even give me a chance to defend myself."

"I - you - how did you - " Miss Pauling stammered.

"How did I...what?" Turncoat asked, leaning slightly into Miss Pauling's space, and wholly ignoring the flabbergasted looks she was getting from the mercenaries. Pauling blinked, her eyes narrowing as she considered the other girl warily.

"Your Respawn Data was deleted," she said tersely. "You shouldn't be able to - "

"Clearly, something went wrong," Turncoat said, brushing a bit of imaginary lint off her shoulder, her tone just shy of outright mocking. "Looks like someone royally _fucked up_. Oh, dear. The Administrator will _not_ be pleased…"

Miss Pauling drew her revolver with snap of her wrist and pointed it right between the Turncoat's eyes. The mercs were frozen, completely at a loss for how to handle the situation.

"What did you do?" Pauling demanded, her voice hard.

Turncoat gave her a disdainful look, and snorted contemptuously.

"Yes, why don't you try killing me again?" she suggested sweetly. "Because that worked so well for you last time. Besides, you don't honestly expect that I'll just _tell_ you all my secrets, do you? Particularly, the _one thing_ that's keeping me alive?"

Pauling's short answer was to shoot her in the head again.

"Well, by _alive_ , I meant not _permanently dead_."

Pauling gasped, and whirled sharply on her heel to find Turncoat lounging on a crate five feet behind her. Eyes wide, she turned back to the body, to find that it had already disappeared, almost as soon as it hit the ground.

"Neat trick, huh?" Turncoat said, her grin sharp and crooked. "That song you heard earlier? It was a virus. It activated, after the Administrator tried to delete my data. And one of the things it did was shorten the delay on Respawn. I thought it would make things easier for you, so you won't have to stand around and wait for too long every time I die. Convenient, isn't it? Would you like me to show you some of the _other_ things I can do...?"

Pauling's fingers twitched on the trigger of her revolver, eyes wide and face pale. The Turncoat gazed back at her with a cold, dark smile. After a long tense silence, Pauling sucked in a deep breath, and jerked her head at the Engineer.

"You, come with me," she said curtly, her tone brisk. "We're going to take a look at Respawn. Soldier, watch her. Make sure she doesn't...try anything."

"Er...yes, ma'am," Soldier said, dutifully hefting his rocket launcher and reluctantly pointing it towards Turncoat, while the Engineer slowly followed Miss Pauling out of the room, glancing uneasily back over his shoulder.

There was a beat of awkward silence, as the mercenaries regarded the girl in front of them with varying degrees of wariness, like she was one of Demo's bombs and he'd decided to play 'when will it go off?' with the timing mechanism.

"Okay, I'm just gonna say it, if no one else will," Scout said. "What da freakin' hell is goin' on?!"

"Ja, I zink ve vould all like to know zat," the Medic said quietly, moving to stand at Soldier's side, and leveling a hard look at the girl. The Spy began edging around from the other direction, his movements smooth and silent. Turncoat glanced back at him briefly, but didn't seem very concerned, even when he sidled up directly behind her.

"Why did you 'ack into our systems?" he asked, his hand closing on her shoulder. "What were you looking for? And what 'ave you done to our Respawn?"

"I haven't touched any of your personal files or interfered with your neural data-banks, if that's what you're worried about," Turncoat replied calmly. "The Engineer will confirm that, when he comes back."

"Zen vhat are you after, if not us?" Medic wanted to know, palming the handle of his bone-saw. "How did you even get here in ze first place?"

"I was offered the position, like everyone else," she shrugged. "I didn't trick my way in, or anything. In fact, the Administrator created this Class _specifically_ for me. All I did was make a few...adjustments."

"Is zhat why she tried to delete you?" Spy asked, raising a brow.

"She certainly didn't realize what she was getting...at least not until it was too late," Turncoat smiled. "Really, all I've done is ensure that TF Industries can't get rid of me. Not until I've gotten what I came for."

"And...what is zhat?" the Spy asked, slowly.

Turncoat looked up at him then, looked directly in his eyes, and he got the feeling she was about to tell him something direly important.

"...I'm here for my family," she said quietly. The Spy blinked, but didn't allow his surprise to show on his face. Instead, he took a long drag from his cigarette, and regarded her with a thoughtful expression. She was trying to tell him something, but he had no clue what on earth it could be. After all, most of his colleagues were here for exactly that reason...

"Yeah, you and half the guys on this team," Scout snorted, echoing the Spy's thoughts. "I mean, we all need money, and shit. But...seriously, you hacked Respawn just so dey couldn't _fire_ you? Are you _insane_?"

"Ja, it makes no sense!" Medic nodded, glaring hard at the girl. "If you hadn't tried to mess vith ze system in ze first place, you vould never haf gotten in trouble! You must haf known zey vould find out!"

"Oh, she knew," Pauling said, marching angrily back into the room, a wide-eyed Engineer at her heels. "In fact, she wanted us to find out. Didn't you?"

The Turncoat merely shrugged, the edge of a smirk flitting across her features.

"What do you want?" Miss Pauling demanded.

"You know what I want," Turncoat replied, quietly. "And you know I'm not going to stop until I get it. After all, you've read my file, haven't you? So you already know. No matter what you do, no matter how many times I die, or how much pain you inflict on me - I. Will. Not. Stop."

Turncoat took a step forward, until they were standing almost nose to nose once more.

"So go ahead," she said, her eyes like broken shards of ice. "Kill me as many times as you like. I don't care. In the end, it will make no difference to me whatsoever. In the end, I _will_ get what I came for."

The two stared at one another for a long time, neither of them moving. Miss Pauling was almost shaking, she was so angry, but the Turncoat was utterly calm.

"...Did she tell you anything?" Pauling asked, looking at Spy.

"Only zhat she is here for her family," the Spy replied, slowly. "If you like, I can interrogate her further for more information..."

Something in his chest clenched painfully at the thought, but he resolutely ignored it. He did not enjoy torture, or hurting women, but the Turncoat was obviously a threat and if the Administrator ordered it…

"No," Pauling said, much to his private relief. "That won't do any good. Right now I need to call the Administrator. Turncoat, you'll come with me. The rest of you stay here."

With that, Pauling turned on her heel and walked stiffly out of the room, Turncoat trailing along behind her. She glanced back at them once, her expression unreadable beneath her cap, and then the door closed gently behind her.

Everyone immediately looked at the Engineer.

"What did you find in the Respawn system?" Spy asked.

The Engineer sighed, pulling off his hard-hat and goggles so he could run a hand across his scalp. He looked severely shaken, and Demo offered him a gulp of Scrumpy to calm his nerves. He accepted with a nod of thanks, taking several swallows of the stuff before letting out a long sigh.

"It don't make a lick of sense," he said, his tone surprisingly grave. "I went through the system, tried removing the Turncoat's files myself, only...there weren't no files to delete."

"Vat?" Medic said.

"I don't think there ever were," Engineer continued, in a hushed, urgent voice. "Whatever got deleted before, I think it was a dummy-plug. Just an empty file, with that virus thing inside. But the Turncoat's neural data, her codes, her DNA sequencing... _it was never there to begin with_."

"But...But zat's _impossible_!" Medic cried. "Ze Respawn needs zat information! It cannot bring somevone back, if it has nozing to vork vith!"

"But it has," the Engineer said. "It brought _her_ back. None of it makes sense. I mean, the system's workin' just fine. The Turncoat Respawns like normal, even if there ain't nothin' there. It's...it's like…"

"It's like...what?" the Spy asked, noting the man's reluctance.

"It's like she's a ghost," the Engineer admitted, quietly. "And...I wasn't able to get a good look, but...there's somethin' movin' through the system. Somethin' that can _think_ , somethin' that can't really be seen - but it's got access to everything. And I think it can change whatever it wants."

The mercenaries went still, thinking of the implications, and a heavy silence fell on the room.

They were still trying to mull it over when Miss Pauling returned, the Turncoat in tow. Pauling's expression was cold and professional, but the Turncoat smiled slightly when she met Scout's eyes. He stared back at her uneasily, swallowing hard, and edged back a step.

"I'm going back to head-quarters," Miss Pauling informed them, tapping her clipboard with her pen to get their attention. Most of them glanced in her direction, but there were a few who refused to take their eyes off the Turncoat, in case she suddenly vanished or peeled off her own face or pulled out a scythe. "I'll be leaving the Turncoat here. No one is to question her, about anything that occurred today. Anyone who does will be terminated _immediately_."

" _What_?" the Spy said sharply, so startled he nearly dropped his cigarette.

"The Administrator was very clear on this," Pauling continued firmly. "None of you are to look into this matter any further. Is that understood?"

The Spy regarded her for a long moment, surprise and confusion churning in his gut. The Administrator didn't want him to investigate this? He was the _Spy_ , that was his job. There was no one better at discovering the truth.

...Which meant they didn't want him to discover the truth.

Curiouser and curiouser.

"...Yes, I understand," the Spy murmured. "I...will leave zhe matter alone."

"Then I'll leave you gentlemen to it," Miss Pauling said with a terse nod. "Good day."

And without so much as another word, she turned and left.

At first no one moved. The mercenaries seemed unsure of what to do, and Turncoat merely regarded them coolly for a moment, her hands folded neatly behind her back. Then she smiled brightly, and somehow managed to light up the whole room.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving," she said. "Is there anything to eat around here?"

 **-END TRANSMISSION-**


	11. REPORT 011

**MEET THE TURNCOAT**

 **RETRIEVING FILE…**

 **DATA LOAD 011: FOUND**

* * *

 **-INITIATE TRANSMISSION-**

The Turncoat was being led at gunpoint towards the kitchen when she heard someone shouting from down the hall.

"Keep moving, maggot!" Soldier barked, his shotgun pressing insistently into the middle of her back when she slowed to a halt. She seemed wholly unconcerned about it.

"Hold on, that sounds like…" Turncoat murmured, her eyes darting towards Medic for a moment, before lighting up with realization. "Wait, that's the BLU Medic, isn't it? They said he'd disappeared. Why've you got him locked up?"

"Oh, man, I totally forgot about him," Scout said, blinking. "We captured him after he, uh...y'know...killed ya dis mornin'. But den ya went and did...all dat other stuff, and I guess we kinda…"

"Vait," Medic said sharply. "You captured ze BLU Medic und locked him up in _our_ Base?! Ve do not haff ze facilities to - "

"Nah, Doc, don't worry 'bout all dat," Scout said, waving a hand dismissively. "Me an' Solly got him strapped down on one a' da beds in dat lab o' yours. There ain't no _way_ he can - "

" _You schweinhunds locked zat lunatic in MY lab?!_ "

"Hey, give us _some_ credit!" Scout retorted defensively. "We shot the bastard's knees out, so I don't t'ink he's gonna be up to strollin' around and messin' wit' any of yer stuff. So, relax, will ya?"

" _Sie dumm wenig - !_ "

"Why din'tcha just shoot the wanker and be done with it?" Sniper asked, tiredly running a hand down his face.

"'Cause you didn't see what he did!" Scout said insistently. "Coatie wasn't even on any side yet, but dat evil sonovabitch still cut 'er throat the first chance he got - and she hadn't done anything, she was tryin' ta _help_ him! You believe dat?"

While Scout launched into a gory retelling of what had happened on the battlefield earlier that morning, Spy watched the Turncoat slowly back away from the group. She glanced down the hall, towards the Infirmary, before turning and meeting his eyes. She held his gaze for a long silent moment, then stepped back and walked away down the hall.

Silently, he moved to follow her.

"And what, pray tell, are you going to do, mon cher?" he asked, falling in step beside her.

"I'm going to talk to that Medic, of course," Turncoat replied easily, and came to a halt in front of the door. As she drew closer, the prisoner inside began furiously shouting, cursing them in German and panting raggedly between each breath. All the noise caught the attention of the Mercenaries, who looked up just as she reached forward and turned the heavy lock. The door swung open slowly, revealing a darkened room, and the outline of an operating table -

"YOU SCHWEINEHUNDS RELEASE ME ZIS INSTANT OR I SVEAR TO GOD I VILL REMOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOUR ORGANS UND STUFF ZEM DOWN YOUR MISERABLE - "

"Hey, hey, hey!" Turncoat cried, hurrying forward to the man strapped to the table could see her properly. "Calm down, it's just me!"

"...Oh," the BLU Medic said, peering up at her in bemusement. "Hello, Fraulein."

"Hello, Medic," Turncoat replied, fighting valiantly to keep her expression neutral as she got a better look at the state he was in. The BLU Medic was in bad shape, despite his liveliness. There didn't seem to be a clean spot on him that wasn't covered in blood. The ragged stump of his arm was only half-healed, and the once pristine white of his lab coat was completely soaked through, becoming a crusty, congealed mess. Perhaps someone had used a medkit on him, to keep him from bleeding out completely, but then they'd gone and given the man a black eye and split lip for the trouble. Both his kneecaps looked shattered and from the sound of his harsh breathing, it was likely he had a few broken ribs, as well.

"They...certainly did a number on you, didn't they...?" she said faintly.

"It is nozing compared to vat I vill do to _zem_ ," the man hissed, his eyes landing on the RED Spy with cold fury. The RED merely smirked, mockingly, and casually flipped open his butterfly knife.

"Yeah? Whatcha got, Doc?" Scout snorted, striding through the doors with most of the RED team at his heels. "Ain't much ya can do all tied up, is dere? We gotta real damsel in distress, ain't dat right?"

Several of the others chuckled lowly, eyes hard and malevolent as they moved like a pack of wolves towards the injured Medic. Turncoat saw him swallow, but he steeled himself and lifted his chin in defiance. She hadn't gotten the chance to really get to know him yet, but if he was anything like the RED Medic he would be proud and stubborn to the last.

She had to do something, before things got ugly.

"Scout, why did you capture him?" she asked. "Why didn't you just send him to Respawn?"

"Because we thought you'd like to do the honors, Private," Soldier answered instead, striding forward to pick up the bone-saw lying across the operating tray. He deftly flipped it over in his hand, and stuck it out to her handle first.

"What?" Turncoat said, her voice oddly strangled.

"I don't know what all that mumbo-jumbo was back there, but I do know one thing," Soldier said, pressing the saw into her hand. "And that's a man should _never_ harm an unarmed woman. After what this sonovabitch did to you this morning, we thought you'd like to even the odds. Typically we carry out Revenge Kills on the field, but for this scum-sucking Nazi-loving filth, I'm willing to make an exception."

"For ze last time, just because I am German it does not mean - "

"QUIET, MAGGOT!" Soldier barked, giving the operating table a hefty kick. The Doctor bit back a howl of pain, grunting low in his throat and sinking his teeth into his lip so hard it began to bleed all over again. The Soldier grinned viciously, pulling his boot back for another, but the Turncoat laid a hand on his shoulder and gently pulled him away.

"Ah, you want to dish out some punishment?" Soldier asked. "Be my guest, Miss Turncoat. He's all yours."

"...Thank you, Soldier," Turncoat said after a moment, her voice calm and even. "So...he's all mine, you say?"

"That's right!" Scout replied.

"And I can do whatever I want with him?"

"Absolutely!" Soldier said.

"And...I have your word that none of you will try and stop me, no matter what?" Turncoat pressed, glancing around at the other Mercenaries.

"Darlin', you do whatever it is you feel you need to," the Engineer said, crossing his arms. "Ain't none of us gonna judge. Hell, we've all wanted a piece of that cold-blooded bastard. Trust me, it's been a long time comin' for him. Just try and save a piece for us, all right? We don't want him dyin' too soon, now. I've still gotta make those adjustment to my turrets, and he'll make a right nice target."

"Aye, I've a few stickies wit' his name on 'em, ye can be sure o' tha'," Demo added, his good eye glinting in the gloom as he shot the BLU Medic a sharp, nasty grin.

"Mhr hrrmmph!" Pyro growled, hefting his flame-thrower with such clear intent of what he'd like to do with it that the Turncoat didn't need any translation. Looking at the other Mercs, she knew none of them would try and stop her. In fact, most seemed curious about what she would do. So...it was a test, in a way.

They wanted to see what she was made of.

She was more than happy to show them.

The bone-saw in hand, she turned to look down at the BLU Medic. He returned her gaze steadily, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard. He refused to show it, but she thought she could still see the flicker of animal fear in his expression, an instinctive gut-reaction in the face of pain and death. But mostly, there was just anger...and resignation.

He fully expected her to kill him - maybe even torture him - and he was bracing for it.

Slowly, she looked down at the bone-saw in her hand. Lifted it. And placed it back on the table.

"Not vone for poetic justice, Fraulein?" the Medic asked, his tone cold and scathing. "Or did you have somezing else in mind? Ze scalpel, perhaps, or ze - "

"Oh, shut up, Doctor," Turncoat snapped, drew her Convertor Gun, and shot him. The Medic's blue gloves and tie immediately switched to red, and he looked up at her in stunned bewilderment, struck silent.

"What…?" Scout sputtered, nearly dropping his bat in shock.

"Now, hold on a minute - "

"You all _said_ I could do whatever I wanted with him," Turncoat pointed out reasonably. "Well, I decided I want him on my Team."

"But - but he killed you!" Scout protested, confused anger cracking his voice. "He _slit yer freakin' throat_!"

"And Sniper shot me in the head this afternoon, but I don't see you strapping _him_ to a table and breaking his knee caps," Turncoat retorted sharply. Sniper blinked, and grimaced when all his team-mates turned to look at him.

"Hold on, when did he - "

"After I broke up your Spawn-Camp on the BLUs," Turncoat huffed impatiently. "Come to think of it, I also died a few times to Engineer's turrets, so perhaps you'd like to torture him, as well?"

"What - no - that's different - "

"No, it isn't!" Turncoat snapped. "Listen. I know it was nothing personal. It's just good tactics. The BLU Medic knew with his injuries he wouldn't be able catch me, so taking advantage of my concern for him in order to lure me in was his only option. And...well, killing me was the best way to keep me out of enemy hands. It's the same for Sniper - if he hadn't taken that shot, your Team would have lost both their Medic and Engineer, making a victory that much more difficult. Taking me out was the best strategy."

"...The best strategy," Scout repeated in complete disbelief. "Dat's all ya gotta say about it."

"Look, if I got mad every time one of you killed me, we wouldn't be able to work together very well," Turncoat retorted. "And I won't allow the Doctor to be harmed any further for the same reason. I belong to _both_ Teams, not just the REDs. I may be wearing your colors right now, but that will change. Which means the BLU Medic is just as much my teammate as you are. I have a responsibility to protect him, no matter what. Because if I didn't, he might not help me the next time I need a Medic. In the long run, it just doesn't make sense."

"Let me see if I am understanding you correctly," Heavy said, crossing his arms. "No matter what happens to you, no matter what any of us or other Team might do, you will not retaliate? Even if given opportunity?"

"No, I will not," Turncoat replied quietly. "I won't hurt _anyone_. That's not the reason I'm here. All I can ask is that if you must kill me, you do so quickly. As a professional courtesy. I think that's only fair."

"It's anything but fair!" Scout cried, throwing his hands in the air. "That's just messed up!"

"Alright, so you're too soft to make this bastard pay for what he did," Soldier grunted, taking a menacing step towards the bound Doctor. "You don't wanna get your hands dirty, fine. Get out of the way. I ain't letting this sonovabitch just walk out of here. Not without getting what he deserves."

"I'm sorry, but I can't let you do that," Turncoat said, moving to step between Soldier and the BLU Medic, her eyes filled with determination.

"Sister, I'm the only one around here givin' orders."

"No!" Turncoat protested. "You said I could do anything I wanted with him! He's _my_ Medic now, and I'm taking him back to his Base."

Soldier snorted, and reached out to lay a heavy hand on the girl's shoulder, ready to push her out of the way.

"Request denied! Now - "

But whatever he'd been about to say was cut off, because the instant he touched her, her eyes suddenly flashed with a harsh golden light. The overhead fluorescent's guttered and died, plunging the room into darkness. All for those two shining pinpricks, like the eyes of a predator in the night.

"First of all, since I switched the Medic over to the RED Team, your weapons won't work on him due to the Friendly Fire mechanisms in place," Turncoat said in a low voice, staring unblinkingly into the Soldier's astonished eyes. "Secondly, you seem to have already forgotten that I have full control over the Respawn system. Meaning I have control over any and all materials within the compound. Including your weapons. Attempt to harm the Medic and I will be forced to initiate a Level 3 Ceasefire, effective immediately."

"But - but that'll take our guns for a week!" Demo cried, sounding utterly scandalized.

"Yes it will," Turncoat agreed. "However, agree to let him go and I won't touch your ordinance."

The piercing light in her eyes faded, and slowly the room brightened once more.

"That's the deal," Turncoat continued, and cocked her head with a charming smile. "Take it or leave it."

"Man, this blows," Scout groaned. "Alright, fine, you win. Don't come cryin' ta me if that bastard slits your throat again. Come on Soldier, I ain't losin' my Force'a Nature over that stupid Nazi. Let's go grab some grub or somethin'."

Soldier glared down at the Turncoat for a long moment, his jaw working angrily, before he finally released her and stomped off without another word. Scout shot her an uncertain look, before he shook his head and followed after his teammate.

"Och, ye drive a hard bargain, lassie," Demo grunted. "But...I ken where ye're comin' from. T'ain't a good idea tae burn a teammate, especially no' a Medic. I'll leave the bloody sod alone, fer now. But don't think I'll be sparin' 'im on the battlefield. Ye 'ear tha', Doc? I've a sticky bomb wi't _yer_ name on it."

"No doubt misspelled..." the BLU muttered disdainfully.

"What was that?" Demo growled.

"Nothing, nothing!" Turncoat interjected quickly before things had a chance to turn ugly again. "Why don't you guys go ahead and get something to eat, or something? I'll be there shortly."

Demo, Heavy and Sniper gave her dubious looks, but eventually their insistent stomachs got the better of them, and they slowly filed out. The Engineer paused to whisper something to Pyro, before he gave her a short nod and followed them. The RED Medic merely crossed his arms and refused to move.

"I'm not leaving until zat degenerate is out of my Infirmary," he said stonily.

"Fair enough," Turncoat shrugged.

"Degenerate?" the BLU snapped. " _You're_ vone to talk, you - "

"Maybe it's _not_ a good idea to antagonize the enemy while they've got you strapped to an operating table?" Turncoat suggested sweetly, laying a hand on the man's good shoulder and gently pushing him back down. "Just sit tight, alright? Unless you _want_ to get yourself killed, and I was being incredibly presumptuous in trying to save your life."

The BLU snorted, but grudgingly decided to drop the matter.

"Vat...did you mean, you have control over Respawn?" he asked slowly, as she reached down to untie the leather straps holding him down. He glanced quickly at the bone-saw lying on the tray - within arm's reach - but the RED Pyro growled and lifted the nozzle of his flame-thrower, stepping up to loom menacingly behind the Turncoat. As if he could actually try anything with one arm and broken legs.

"It means I hacked the system," Turncoat replied cheerfully, seemingly unaware of her bodyguard, making the Medic choke. "As of today, Respawn and everything connected to it - guns, ammunition, food, you - are no longer under the sole control of the Administrator."

"They're under _yours_ , apparently," Spy added, flipping his balisong open and regarding her through hooded eyes. "Can you truly take our weapons away, or were you just bluffing?"

In answer, the Turncoat merely smiled, and held up his knife. Spy blinked, and looked down at his empty hand in shock. Then he blinked again, and it was back. From clear across the room.

"Mon dieu..." he muttered, pocketing it.

"Mon dieu, indeed," Turncoat replied cheekily, before turning to smile kindly down at the restrained Doctor. "Now, let's see about getting you fixed up, okay?"

"But, you - how did you - "

"It's a bit of a long story," Turncoat said, moving down to untie his legs. "And I'm afraid the Administrator forbade anyone from asking too many questions, so I would be careful about what you say, if I were you. However, she _can't_ keep _me_ from explaining anything, and there are a few things I think you guys ought to know. I'd rather not have to go over it all twice, so I think we should see about setting up a truce and getting both Teams together. But all that can wait. You need a medkit and a cup of tea, for starters."

"If you zink I am lending you any of my supplies to help zat sorry excuse for a Doctor, I'm afraid you'll be sorely disappointed, Fraulein," the RED Medic informed her.

"That's alright, I'll just get my own," Turncoat replied cheerfully, and summoned a Medkit into her hand with short, punchy pop.

"Fascinating!" the BLU Medic marveled. "Zat vill come in handy on ze front. How are you accomplishing zis?"

"You heard the song, right?" Turncoat said, injecting his good arm with the syringe. She'd even bothered to disinfect the area first. How thoughtful.

"Zat vas your doing?" the Medic asked. "Interesting choice of music..."

"It was a virus," the girl explained, grinning at him. "Didn't take long for the Administrator to figure out what I was up to, and when she did, she tried to delete my Respawn data. That's when the virus activated, and initiated a cascade effect throughout the entire system. Instead of running automatically, it now has to go through me. In effect...I _am_ the Respawn."

"Yes, and you 'ave yet to adequately explain why you've done all zhis," the Spy reminded her.

"I'll get to that later," Turncoat replied, helping the BLU Medic to sit up. She examined the stump of his arm with a thoughtful hum. "Will your Medigun be able to regrow the limb?" she asked quietly.

"Nein," the Medic said with a sigh. "If I had ze arm, it could reattach ze tissue, but wizhout it...Respawn may be ze best option, after all..."

In answer to that, Pyro drew his shotgun and pointed it straight between the Medic's eyes.

"That won't be necessary," Turncoat said quickly, reaching up to push the muzzle away.

"Fraulein, I appreciate ze attempt at saving my life, but I need zat arm," the Doctor told her evenly.

"I didn't say you wouldn't get it back," Turncoat replied, shaking her head. "But you don't need to _die_ in order for it to work anymore. Like I said, I _am_ Respawn. And I say it's going to work _now_."

At that, she reached out to place her hand on his shoulder, just above the torn flesh. Her eyes narrowed in concentration, and a soft golden light began to emanate from her palm. The Medic jumped slightly, feeling the stump begin to tingle as beads of glittering light began to spread across the tissue and swiftly outwards. The light coalesced into the shape of an arm, then a hand, then fingers -

And with a pop, his arm was back again, good as new.

"There ya go, that takes care of the important bits," Turncoat said, backing away a step to admire her handy-work. He stared at her in complete bewilderment. "You'll need to get a new lab coat, of course, but I hear those are...easier to replace..."

"Fraulein?" the BLU Medic asked, instinctively reaching out to steady the girl when she swayed dangerously. His new arm tingled briefly, like he'd fallen asleep on it, but it was nothing compared to the full-body experience he'd have endured if he'd died and gone through Respawn properly.

"I - I'm fine, it's just a dizzy spell..." Turncoat said, trying to wave him away as she leaned against the table and willed herself not to faint. "Oh, boy, I didn't think it'd take _that_ much out of me. Honestly..."

"Are you alright?" Spy asked.

"I'm fine," Turncoat replied, trying valiantly to straighten up - for all of five seconds before she collapsed back into a chair with a tired huff. "I don't think I should do that again for while," she added. "So do try not to lose any more limbs today, okay? And nobody cut off Medic's hands before I've gotten my breath back, please."

Pyro let out a disappointed noise, but he stopped palming the handle of his fire axe and reluctantly shuffled away from the BLU. Spy watched him for a moment, a slow grimace twisting his lip at how easily everyone fell to obeying the little chit. They hadn't even known her for a day, but he'd noticed most of the Mercs were already following her commands without question. Even Soldier had backed down without much of a fuss.

Was it simply because she looked so much like Miss Pauling? Or was it the power she now wielded? Was that what she wanted? To take over Team Fortress, and sway the Mercenaries onto her side? If that was the case...if she was another Gray Mann...she was certainly going about it in the right way. By choosing to fight _with_ them, instead of against them, just how long would it be before she'd gained their trust entirely? Was that her ultimate plan? Would she make her move, then, whatever it was? _What the hell was her plan?_

And why - _why_ \- didn't the Administrator want him to find out?

Spy had too many questions, and not enough answers.

He needed more information.

And he needed to get it without the Administrator knowing.

"When you're ready, mon cher, allow me to escort you and zhe Good Doctor back to the BLU Base," he said, stepping forward with a polite nod. "And zhen...I think it's time you answered a few questions."

 **-END TRANSMISSION-**


End file.
